The Well
by Rogue11
Summary: The Portrait' Sequel. Duo and Wufei are getting ready to move out of the dorms, while two new enigmatic students transfer into school. As their paths cross with Milliardo and friends, the group stumbles onto yet another unsolved mystery.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 1  
**

"Hello Professor!"

Treize Khushrenada raised one eyebrow as he turned his head to face the young man who had called out to him from across the parking lot. "Are we back to 'Mister Maxwell' and 'Professor' now?"

Duo gave a lopsided grin as he came closer. "I figured since we are back in school…"

"Hmm…Technically I suppose that's right. But I don't see anything wrong with us remaining on a first name base as long as we are not in class."

"Works for me." The youth shrugged. "Do you want me to give you a hand with that?" He gestured at the boxes the professor had been removing from his car trunk."

"Would you mind?"

As he lifted up one of the cardboard containers Duo grunted in surprise. "What's in there; fieldstones?"

The older man laughed. "Books," he explained. "I finally got around to getting all my personal belongings out of storage and I am going through them. Too much stuff to keep, so I figured I'd donate some of my books to the library and make room for new ones. You sure you can carry it?"

"Yeah, no problem," Duo assured him as they headed for the library building. "So you only came to drop off things? I was wondering what you are doing on campus already. School doesn't start for another three weeks."

"No, I am already working. Unlike you guys, teachers don't get the whole summer off, you know. But why are you back already? I assumed you would be still basking somewhere at the beach."

"I'm not really the basking kind," the braided youth laughed. "Besides, Wufei and I still have to find a place to live. The dorms are only for freshmen."

"Ah yes, that's right. How **is** Wufei?"

"He is fine."

"The two of you went to China last month, didn't you? How was it?"

"Amazing, really. We visited the place where his family comes from; some of his relatives still live there. And then we traveled to Xi'an to check out the excavations near the First Emperor's burial ground, you know those stone soldiers and horses."

A sparkle of excitement crossed the professor's face. "You did? You have no idea how jealous I am."

Duo gave another laugh. "Wufei thought you might say something like that. We took a ton of photos. In fact I even managed to sneak off the visitor's path and take a few pictures of one of the pits that are not open for the public yet, while he distracted the security guards."

"Somehow I am not really surprised by that. But seriously, I can't wait to see those pictures and hear all about your trip." The anticipation in Treize's voice was hard to miss. "How about tonight. Why don't the two of you come over for dinner? We can throw a little BBQ together; how does that sound?"

"Free food; sounds good to me any time," the younger man grinned. "But what about Milliardo, shouldn't you make sure it's alright with him, first?"

"I'll call him right now." The professor declared, as they rounded to corner in front of the library. He set down the book box he was carrying to pull out his cell phone. "I don't see why it should be a problem, thought. We have no plans yet for the evening."

"How is Milliardo, anyway? Did he find a job yet? Is he even sure what he wants to do?"

"Not yet. I told him to take his time; he will be working most of the rest of his life. No reason to hurry things. Of course his father is still trying to convince him to work at his company."

"Hmm…I'm not sure if I would want to work for my family…if I had one. But if it is an easy job and pays well. So, how are things going at the haunted house? I assume Alexander is still around?"

"Oh yes," Treize confirmed and with an unmistakable sigh. "I don't think he is planning on leaving any time soon."

"Somehow you don't sound too happy about it."

"Don't get me wrong, I love my great grandfather. But living with a ghost can…umm... provide some unique challenges to say the least," the professor admitted as he flipped open his phone and hit the speed dial button.

#####

"Take a left on the next corner and then a sharp right… no wait, make that a sharp left."

The slender, young man behind the wheel of the silver Mercedes Benz turned his head trying to get a look at the piece of paper his passenger was reading the directions off.

"Maybe," he suggested as he took the corner, "if you'd just tell me where we are going I can take us there a lot faster."

"Too late, we are already there. You can drop me off here," the other youth gestured at an 'Open House' sign on the lawn in front of a small two-story house. "Find a place to park or grab a cup of coffee; I'll call you when I'm ready to go back home."

"I'm not supposed to let you out of my sight," the driver pointed out.

His passenger answered with an annoyed huff. "This is Mid-town America, not the Middle East. I'm just going to go inside and take a look around. The worst thing that can happen is that the realtor tries to sell me the place for more than it is worth."

"But…"

"No buts," the young man's voice left no room for arguments. "I told you already, I only agreed to a bodyguard to make my father happy, but a babysitter was never part of the deal. If you must, park on the other side of the street; then you can keep an eye on anyone coming or leaving."

"As you wish, Sir."

"I also told you not to call me that. Once school starts it's going to be very awkward if two people who room together call each other Sir or by their last name. I didn't come here to stand out like a sore thumb. For once in my life I want to be treated just like a normal person."

"I understand," the driver gave a nod of acknowledgement as he pulled to the curb and stopped the car. "I'll work on it. But I do have a question."

"Yes?"

"What are we doing here, anyway?"

"Looking at a house."

"I realize that. I'm just not sure why. We already have a place to live that's more than sufficient; and most of all, it's already paid for by your father."

"Exactly my point."

###

"Welcome to the Open House, Mister…?!"

"Peacecraft, Milliardo Peacecraft." The long-haired blonde shook hands with the realtor who was greeting her visitors personally at the door.

"May I interest you in a brochure and some reading material while we are waiting for more people to arrive?" The woman asked.

"Absolutely," Milliardo nodded. "But if you don't mind I'd like to take a look around by myself rather than taking the tour."

"Be my guest."

"Thank you." With his nose buried in the small 2 page brochure, the young man slowly made his way up the staircase. As he stopped at the landing to take a look down he could hear the front door open and the Realtor talk to someone. Apparently other potential buyers had arrived.

Milliardo took his time looking around. He wasn't as much interested in the size of the rooms or color of the paint on the walls as in the overall condition of the house and what it might take to fix it up.

###

A middle aged woman of Indian or perhaps Persian decent opened the door only moments after he had knocked.

"Missis Rama?!" he asked. "I believe we talked on the phone this morning. My name is Winner, Quatre Winner."

"Ah, yes. Please come in, Mister Winner."

Looking around Quatre realized instantly that this was not the house he wanted to move into. It looked like someone had tried to beautify it, starting at the outside but run out of money or interest before the project was finished. That might be great for someone looking for a good deal and didn't mind finishing the remodeling himself. But it was definitely not a place one could move in right away.

_Oh well, _the young man thought. _This is only the first house on my list. There have to be better ones, I'm sure._

Still, he figured that it might seem a little rude to turn around and leave right away. So he decides to at least take a look around. He smiled politely at the realtor as he followed her into the living area, without really listening to what she was saying. No, this house was definitely not right for him…in fact he was beginning to sense that something was wrong about this place; he just wasn't sure what it was. His chest was becoming tight and a strange, unsettling feeling was spreading from the pit of his stomach. _I should get out of here._

"Excuse me, Ma'am. I think I've seen all I need."

"But you haven't even seen the best parts of the house. Let me at least show you the large and beautiful garden…"

_Garden…Fresh air…I think I could use some right now. _"Alright." He followed her as she opened the patio door and led the way. But they had barely set foot over the threshold when someone knocked at the front entrance.

"You will have to excuse me for a moment."

Quatre nodded. "Don't worry about it. I'll just take a look around." He had to admit that the woman was not exaggerating when she said the backyard was beautiful, probably the most appealing part of the house. And it was nicely sized. A set of three steps led from the patio or deck into the garden below. The young man propped himself against the balustrade as he looked around. Forcing himself to take slow deep breaths he was waiting for the tightness in his chest to dissipate. But instead it only seemed to get worse and suddenly he felt as though he was drowning. Gasping for air he tightened the grip on the railing and closed his eye. _Not again! And not now…Make it stop… I… _

"Are you alright?" A slight touch on his shoulder brought Quatre back to his senses. He opened his eyes and turned to face a young man, a few years his senior, with long platinum blond hair and eyes as blue as frozen lakes.

"Are you alright?" the stranger repeated.

Somehow he managed a nod and a slight smirk. "I just got a little dizzy. I suppose I shouldn't have skipped breakfast. It should be better soon."

"Are you sure?" the blonde eyed him skeptically. "You are pale as a ghost. Do you want me to call a doctor, or give you a ride home?"

Quatre shook his head. "Thanks, but that won't be necessary. My…friend is waiting outside. I'll call him." He was still searching for his phone with shaking fingers when a shadow fell over him, and when he raised his head Trowa was standing to his right.

"Is everything okay?"

"I don't feel so good," the young man admitted. "Can you give me a hand and help me to the car?"

"Of course."

Leaning on his bodyguard for support Quatre gave the blond stranger a polite smile and a nod. "Thanks for your concern."

###

As the young men left Milliardo's gaze followed them all the way to the front door. His eyes narrowed slightly. For a moment there he could have sworn that when the taller of the two leaned over to steady his friend, he had caught a glimpse of a gun under his jacket. _Who the hell are those guys? _Ideas like witness protection and organized crime popped into his head, and he couldn't help but laugh about his own imagination. _I think I need to stop watching those late night crime shows with Alexander._

Before stepping back into the house to talk to the realtor one more time, he decided to check his phone and realized that Treize been trying to reach him twice in the past 30 minutes. He walked further into the garden for some privacy as he hit the call back button.

"Hey Treize, what's up? You tried to call me?"

"Ah, yes. What do you think about having Wufei and Duo over for dinner tonight?"

"I didn't even realize they were back in town, but yes, that sounds like a plan to me."

"Good, because I kind of invited them already. But where are you anyway; I tried the house phone as well."

"Just looking for some houses for sale."

"Oh?!"

Milliardo could almost see the surprised look on his lover's face, and he laughed. "Don't worry I have no plans on moving out or selling the house. But I have been bouncing a little business idea around in my head. I'll tell you about it when I see you tonight."

"I'll be looking forward to it."

"Well, then I'll wrap things up here and head to the groceries store. With what's left in the fridge we can barely feed a humming bird, but most defiantly not a Duo Maxwell."

On the other end of the line the professor chuckled. "Want me to meet you somewhere?"

"No, that's okay. I'm only a few blocks away from the shopping center on Quails Ridge. They have a huge supermarket. I'll see you at home in an hour or two?"

"Alright then. Drive carefully."

###

Trowa waited for the other youth to settle down in the passenger seat before closing the door for him and walking around the car. When he slipped into his own seat Quatre had his eyes closed and was resting his head against the cool window.

"Are you sure you are alright?" the brunette asked with a concerned look.

"Yes, feeling better already," Quatre assured him. "Turn on the air, will you?"

"Of course." The bodyguard started the car and adjusted one of the ac ducts. "What happened?" he wanted to know.

The other youth shrugged. "I just got dizzy; it happens sometimes. No big deal. I'm used to it," he lied.

"Nobody told me. I would have…"

"I'm not ill or something, if that's what you are thinking. It's just that…" he trailed off and shook his head. "Never mind. You'd probably think I'm crazy."

"Try me."

"Maybe not. So, what's our next stop?"

"Home," Trowa declared firmly.

"I thought you wanted to drive by the Sherriff's office about your gun permit. Not a good idea to put that off."

"I'll take care of it later today."

Quatre gave another shrug as he reached for his phone. "It's up to you." He was starting to feel better now that they had left the house behind, and the color in his face was beginning to return. He pulled out a little business card as well and dialed the number on it.

"Missis Rama, its Quatre Winner. I'm sorry for leaving so sudden. I'm calling because I have a question. Would you happen to know the house ever had a pool?"

"A swimming pool you mean? No, not as far as I know. But that's a very good idea. There is certainly more than enough room to build one. Anything else I can help you with?"

"Thank you. That's all I wanted to know."

Trowa gave him a questioning look as he closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "A Pool?"

"Just a thought." Quatre shook his head, unwilling to elaborate any further. He was grateful that his bodyguard didn't push the issue.

###

Checking off another item on his list as he maneuvered his shopping cart around a large display Milliardo nearly collided with another trolley and had to stop sharply. "Oops, I'm sorry; my fault."

"Milliardo Peacecraft?!"

He looked up, somewhat surprised. "Heero, you shop here? Ah right, you live up on Quail Ridge, don't you."

The younger man gave an affirmative nod. "Just across the street and up the hill. But what brings you here? I imagine they have supermarkets closer to your house."

"Yes, they do." Milliardo grinned. "I was in the area and decided to check this place out. Big mistake it seems; it takes me forever to find what I am looking for. Why can't they just set up one market like the other?"

"It's an unwritten law, I believe," Heero replied dryly. "What exactly ARE you looking for?"

"Let's see... I'm down to bagels, cream cheese and beer."

"I know where to find those. Let me show you."

"Thanks." Turning his cart around Milliardo followed the younger man. "So," he suddenly asked. "How are things going between you and Duo Maxwell?"

With a gaze over his shoulder Heero frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the last time we talked you mentioned that you had a crush on him," the blonde pointed out. He could see Heero's ears turn red.

"I don't remember saying anything about a 'crush'."

"Not in so many words you didn't," Milliardo grinned. "I take it then you haven't told him yet."

"Well…. I was busy… finals and stuff, you know. And then summer break came and I heard he went to China with his friend. - Here are the bagels."

"He is back now." The tall, blonde reached for a bag of mini multi-grains for Treize and some cinnamon raisin bagels for himself.

"Is he?" His friend was leading the way to the dairy section now.

"Yeah. But anyway, got any plans for tonight?"

With another quick gaze over his shoulders Heero shrugged. "Not really. Probably just working on my car."

"That car won't go anywhere. You can still work on it tomorrow. Tonight you will be having dinner at my house?"

"I will? What's the special occasion?"

"No special occasion," Milliardo told him. "Just some friends coming together for some food and drinks and maybe a couple hands of poker afterwards. Can you make it?"

"I'll be there," the younger man confirmed.

"Great, then I'll see you at six."

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:  
I had so much fun working on 'The Portrait' last year that I decided to write another story set in the same 'universe'. There will be a new mystery to solve and new friends to be made.  
In addition to all the main characters we met last time, I'm introducing the last of the GW pilots in this one. I always liked Quatre in 'Episode Zero' very much, the somewhat (or more than somewhat) spoiled and selfish young man who grows in the face of danger, and I decided to bring out those personalities in him in this story. I hope 3+4 fans will enjoy that side of him as much as I do. And hopefully the people who had been asking for a little 1+2 interaction won't be disappointed either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 2**

Trowa Barton raised his head and looked over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps behind him.

"What are you doing?" Quatre stopped at the open door. The young man had been in his room, reading since they came back from the Open House.

"Studying. If I'm to pass as a sophomore I should at least have the knowledge of someone who already has a year of college under his belt."

"Have you decided on what classes to take, yet?"

"Obviously, whatever classes you will be taking. The point of me going to school with you is to be able to keep an eye on you," Trowa pointed out, and then before they could get into another argument over it, he changed the subject. "Are you hungry?"

"No, not really... Not yet." The other youth shook his head. "But some tea would be nice."

"It would," the bodyguard confirmed. "The tea is in the same cabinet with the coffee; right above the coffee maker."

"Ah, right."

Quatre hesitated for just a moment before he left, and Trowa turned his attention back to his computer. He finished the article he had been reading and took a few notes about things he wanted to research further, later on, then closed the laptop and rose to his feet. He stretched his stiff muscles and walked into the kitchen where his 'housemate' seemed to be reading the instructions on a tin of black tea.

"How is it going?"

"It's…umm…going slow." Quatre turned his head and gave him a somewhat crooked grin.

"You don't know how to make tea?" Trowa suddenly realized.

"My sisters or the cook would usually do all the kitchen work," the other youth admitted.

"Well, do you want me to do it?"

"No, I'll be alright. I just have to do as it says on the box."

The body guard shrugged as he turned to leave the kitchen. "Just make sure not to burn the water."

"Are you making fun of me?" Quatre huffed. "You can't burn water."

"Are you sure?" There was a tiny smirk on Trowa's face as he looked back over his shoulder, and Quatre realized that it was the first time he had seen him smile.

####

"Alexander, take the door, would you? That must be Duo and Wufei." Treize called out from upstairs. He had been changing, and was still buttoning his shirt when the doorbell had rung.

Milliardo was out on the patio checking the grill, with Cabal by his side, guarding every move of his, in hopes that there was some food to be had. He could hear the front door open and then his friend's voices, as their ghostly housemate let them in.

Instantly the Borzoi turned on his heels sprinting into the house like a flash of furry lightning.

"Watch out," the blonde warned. "He is coming." For some reason Cabal was just crazy about his braided friend. But maybe that was only because Duo was always feeding him table scraps during dinner.

Quickly adding a few more woodchips to the smoking box, Milliardo closed the grill and went into the house to greet their guests.

A laughing Duo was trying to fight off another lick attack, while Wufei looked around then held up a small bag he was carrying.

"Alexander?! We brought you a little something. Hope you like it."

Momentarily the bag hovered in thin air before dropping to the ground to reveal a thin, square, wrapped packet; another book for his constantly growing collection of mystery novels it seemed, but only until Alexander ripped away the paper.

"A photo book?!" Treize came walking down the stairway to join the small group.

"Yes," Wufei confirmed. "You mentioned before that Alexander also went to China on his travels. Duo and I thought it might be fun if we went to the same port cities and took pictures for him to see how much they changed since he visited them."

"What a splendid idea, don't you agree Alexander?"

Apparently he did, because Duo suddenly took a slight step back. It was one thing to be pounced on and slobbered over by a dog…Being embraced by a spirit however, took a little more to get used to. His Chinese friend took the ghostly hug with composure.

"You are welcome."

"So, are we just going to hang out in the hall or will we actually go inside?" Milliardo finally asked and gestured into the living room. "You will have to excuse me I need to check the ribs again."

"Is that what I smell?" Duo asked.

"Yes, I have been slowly smoking them for several hours."

"I bet the whole neighborhood is drooling by now."

Milliardo laughed. "Let's hope they taste as good as they smell. With some arm twisting I managed to get a few of my father's famous grilling recipes out of him. But I have never tried them before."

"I'm sure they will be great," Treize gave his lover a reassuring pat on the back. "Let me grab some beer," he offered and then directed at their guests. "Make yourself a home."

On his way to the couch Wufei's eyes fell upon the dining table. "Five settings; does Alexander have his own place at the table now?"

"No," the professor replied from the kitchen where they could hear him open the fridge. "He still doesn't eat or need food for that matter. Milliardo invited another friend. The name is Yuy, he will be a sophomore just like you guys."

"Heero Yuy?" Duo asked as he settled down in one of the new leather recliners.

"Yes," Treize confirmed as he returned with a arm full of beer bottles. "You know him?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it knowing. We had a couple classes together. But Wufei and I aren't exactly in the same league with the guy."

"What league would that be?" Milliardo asked as he stepped in from the patio.

"The rich and popular guys. They don't even acknowledge us."

Wufei forehead furrowed slightly as he looked at his friend. "That's a rather stupid assessment to make. Milliardo and Treize didn't exactly grow up in the poorhouse either, and we are friends, are we not"

"They are the exception," Duo insisted. "Face it Wu, the rich kids like to hang out with their own. That Yuy guy for example I don't think he has spoken more than 3 words to me all year."

"Not everyone talks as much as you," Wufei countered.

Treize smirked slightly. "Wufei might have a point. You have a very cheerful personality which allows you to talk to people and make friends easily. Not everyone is that lucky. Some people don't talk to others not because they don't want to, but because they don't know how to."

"I agree," Milliardo nodded. "From what I can tell Heero is a very nice guy, so give him the benefit of the doubt. By the way, he should be here any minute, Alexander would you mind…?"

He had talked to the ghost earlier and asked him to keep out of sight for the evening, since Heero had no idea of his existence.

Alexander, who had been sitting in his favorite armchair flipping through the photos, got up and retreated up to his attic, or so they could tell by the book slowly floating up the stairs.

"Seems as though he really likes his gift." The professor remarked. "That was very nice of you to put that book together for him."

"It was quite interesting to visit those ports knowing that more than a hundred years ago he might have walked those same streets. Wouldn't it be something if he could actually go back to those places and see them again?" Wufei mused. "And I don't mean just the foreign counties he visited but places nearby like the park where he and Octavian liked to walk their dog…"

"We could make a video diary of sorts." Duo suggested.

"Yeah, but it's not the same as being there in person."

"No it isn't," Treize admitted. "But it's the next best thing, and I think he would enjoy it."

###

"Tea is ready." Quatre announced as he walked into the living room with a tray of steaming teacups and a plate of sweet flaky pastries filled with almond paste, courtesy of his sisters who had sent him a large 'care packing' via overnight express.

"Thanks." Moving aside a couple of magazines, Trowa made room on the coffee table for him to set down the tray. "I called the Sheriff and set up an appointment for tomorrow."

"Good. I'd like to go with you." Quatre reached for his tea cup and settled down in one of the brand new arm chairs. They had been delivered only the day before, like most of the furniture in the house, and still had the smell of new leather to them. Staring down in his cup thoughtfully for a few minutes, he suddenly raised his head and looked at his bodyguard. "Your boss called earlier while you were out running."

"What did he want?"

"It was nothing important he said; he will call back later. But we talked for a moment….Trowa, why do you do what you do? He told me you had been shot at your last assignment. You took a bullet meant for the man you were protecting."

"Yeah?!"

"You could have died!"

"The thought crossed my mind," the brunette admitted and took a sip from his tea. "Hmm…pretty good for a first try."

Quatre's eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance as he felt like Trowa was trying to change the subject. "Would you do it again? If someone would try to shoot me, I mean."

"It is part of my job, Quatre," the other youth replied. "Ideally a bodyguard will prevent any attack before it happens, but sometimes that's not possible. So yes, if that's what it takes to keep you safe… I'd shield you with my body."

Quatre's mouth changed into a thin line as he turned his head and looked out of the window.

The other youth gazed at him from the side. "Did I say something wrong?"

As Quatre turned toward him again his blue eyes sparkled with underlined fury. "How can you care so little about your own life? Is it worth so little to you that you are willing to give it up so easily for another person? And not to mention, have you ever considered how that person would feel… Do you think I want you to get killed for my sake? I don't. I don't want **anyone** else to die for me."

"Quatre…" Trowa exclaimed quietly and somewhat surprised about the sudden outburst.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to lose someone you cared about?" Apparently the last was meant as a rhetorical question only, because the young man rose to his feet and put down his tea.

"Quatre, wait. Don't walk out now."

"I have a bit of a headache; I'm going lie down for a while."

The bodyguard signed inwardly as he watched him leave the room. _When his father told me he could be difficult to deal with at times, I thought nothing of it. Spoiled, smug, rich kids who think the rules of this world don't apply to them I can deal with … but he keeps me on my toes, and I'm never quite sure what to expect next._

###

Luck had it that a car drove off, leaving a perfect parking spot just across Milliardo's house when Heero arrived. He pulled into it, grabbed the bag that was sitting on the passenger seat, and locked the car as he climbed out. For a brief moment he studied the house in front of him. It was quite different from the large, contemporary estate the rest of the Peacecraft family lived in, but it was appealing and welcoming in its own way.

As he climbed up the three little stairs to the front entrance he could hear voices from inside and smell the smoky aroma of BBQ-ed meat. A dog started barking as soon as he rang the bell but stopped instantly when someone told him sharply: "Enough!"

Milliardo opened the door moments later, at his side a white dog with silky hair and a long pointed muzzle. "Ah Heero, we were beginning to wonder if you had changed your mind."

"I'm sorry, I was doing something totally lost track of time," the young man apologized.

"Well, you are here now. Come in."

The dog curiously sniffed his bag as Heero stepped into the hall. Through the open door to what seemed to be the living room, he could see Professor Khushrenada. It created quite some buzz in school when people found out their history teacher was living together with a former student, a male student to top it off, but things quieted down almost as quickly as they had flared up.

The professor was talking to someone out of his line of view, but then that person laughed. "What's wrong with that?"

_That voice. _Heero almost stopped dead in his track. His head snapped around and he gave Milliardo an accusing glare. "You set me up."

"I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about." The older youth blinked innocently. "Are you coming in or not?"

It wasn't like he had much of a choice. As he followed Milliardo into the living room he gave his teacher a nod "Professor?!"

"Please call me Treize."

"Thank you." Heero greeted his fellow students as well with a nod. "Wufei…Duo."

"Hi Heero."

"Hey there."

Suddenly remembering the bag in his hand Heero turned to Milliardo. "I brought something for dessert."

"Let me put it into the kitchen. Do I need to refrigerate it?"

"No, it's just cheese cake. I think it will be fine for a few hours. Personally, I like it best at room temperature."

"Sounds good."

The blonde took the bag and retreated into the kitchen while Treize gestured for their guest to come closer. "Come on, sit down, Heero, have a beer," he encourage the young man. "You are already behind."

"I didn't realize you are having a contest."

###

Kicking off his shoes, Quatre flopped onto his bed with a frustrated grunt. He didn't mean to get that angry. _He is right; this IS his job and I should try to accept that. Besides, having a 24/7 bodyguard around me was the only condition under which Father agreed on to let me go to this school. So, there is no way around it. If I want to stay I'll have to learn to deal with it. It's not like it is something completely new, either. Father's bodyguards were always around for as long as I can remember. It was part of growing up I never thought much about until…_

Quatre rolled onto his back with a sigh and raised his arm to cover his eyes. The throbbing in his temples was getting worse. For a moment he considered getting up to take something for the headache, but then he decided to wait. Maybe all he needed was a short nap.

His mind wandered back to the morning and his visit at the Open House. _Just what happened there,_ he wondered. _It must have been something terrible to affect me in the way it did._

As he drifted off to sleep Quatre found himself back at the house again, looking into the backyard from a window at the second floor - which seemed odd really, considering he never even made it upstairs.  
He could hear music, nothing familiar, but it sounded like something his eldest sisters would listen to. Down on the patio area, a handful of young people, in their late teens early twenties maybe, were talking, arguing and laughing with one another. The music was coming from a huge boom box sitting on a small round wrought-iron table between them.

Finally one of the young men looked up and waved at him. The first thing Quatre noticed were those prominent sideburns and that the long, combed over bangs reminded him a little of Trowa. Only, his hair wasn't brown but sandy blond.

"Hey, Mike," he yelled up. "Are you going to come or not? I have been saving a couple of beer for you but if you don't get your ass down here soon I might drink them myself."

"Don't even think about it," Quatre found himself answer. He too had to yell to drown out the loud music. "I'll be there in a minute."

"What are you doing anyway? You got a babe hidden up there or something?" One of the other guys asked, but before he could say anything yet another one answered.

"He is probably working on his MUSIC again."

"Sure, keep laughing about me, man. Let's see who will be laughing when I sell those lyrics and become a big- ass song writer."

"Keep dreaming, Michael. Keep dreaming."

He smiled as he stepped away from the window, knowing that he and his friends always teased one another about stuff like this, all in good humor. He threw a quick look at his paper littered desk before heading downstairs. His hand reached for the doorknob but the moment he opened the door he was suddenly swallowed buy complete darkness… darkness and cold and fear. He couldn't breathe; around him was nothing but water, muddy frigid water, as though he had been thrown into a bottomless pit. Somewhere far above him he could see a faint light, indicating the water's surface. As he began to panic he kicked and splashed trying desperately to make his way toward that light. But the more he struggled the deeper he seemed to sink and then the last hint of light was gone.

_No! Help… Please someone help me….someone…anyone…._

In his mind he was screaming as loud as he could. Why didn't anybody hear him; why didn't anyone come…?

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Hope you enjoy the new chapter. Next time we will learn a bit about Heero and Quatre.

Author's Note:


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 3**

"Quatre!" A warm hand touching his shoulder brought the young man back to reality. His eyes snapped open and he looked into Trowa's concerned face.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have barged in like this, but you were… you seemed to be having a nightmare."

Still trying to catch his breath, Quatre gave a tiny nod. "Thanks." His heart was still pounding against his chest and the fact that Trowa's hand was still resting on his shoulder didn't seem to help either.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine now. Thank you," he assured the bodyguard as he moved away from his touch and swung his feet over the side of the bed. Surprisingly his headache was gone, replaced by a queasy feeling in his stomach and weak knees.

"I got dinner ready," Trowa explained as he took a step backward. "Do you want me to keep yours warm."

"No, that's alright." The blonde shook his head. "I'll come down in a minute. Let me just freshen up a little."

"I'll start dishing up then."

As his bodyguard left, Quatre made his way into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. His gaze went to the mirror and for a few moments he studied his own reflection. His face seemed paler than usual making a set dark circles around his eyes even more visible. With a sigh he splashed his face with cold water, which seemed to help settling down his stomach.

"What's going on with me? And why is this happening now?" he asked his own reflection.

With a last look in the mirror he ran his hands through his hair, trying to tame those golden tresses. He had gotten his hair along with the fair color of his skin from his mother, although her hair always had been long and silky and not as full and stubborn as his. _I'm sure father's gene pool is to blame for that._

By the time Quatre finally made it downstairs Trowa was putting a basket of bread onto the table.

"Are we ready?"

"Yes, most definitely. It smells delicious. What is it?"

###

"Green tea cheesecake," Heero explained at Milliardo's question, as they were sitting over dessert.

"Green tea…" Duo echoed. "I knew there was something familiar about the taste. I had green tea ice-cream before, but this even better."

"I'll have to agree." Treize nodded. "This is absolutely delicious. Don't mind if I have another piece. Where did you buy it? …Unless, of course that's a secret."

"It's not," the young man assured him. "But I didn't buy it, I made it myself."

"You cook?" Duo sounded surprised and impressed at the same time.

"Well, technically it would be baking, but yes I do both. Professor J…"

"Your father?!"

"My adoptive father," the young man confirmed, "was a brilliant scientist who spent most of his time in the research lab, at symposiums or in class teaching. He had many priorities; cooking dinner was not one of them. So I learn very soon that if I wanted a warm meal that didn't come in a box or paper bag, I had to prepare it myself."

"So, in other words," Wufei concluded calmly. "He was a brilliant scientist but a lousy father."

"I wouldn't say that," Heero disagreed. "He always took care of me, provided anything I needed and taught me many useful things. I believe that's more than can be said of many so called fathers. Professor J was a very generous man."

Treize frowned slightly, thoughtfully. "Have you always been calling him that…J I mean?"

The question seemed to confuse Heero. "Of course. That's his name. What else would call him?"

"How about 'Father'?" Milliardo suggested.

"In spite of many rumors he was NOT my real father."

"That's not what I meant. There are a lot of adopted children out there referring to their foster parents as father and mother."

"Hmm… I never thought about it that way." Heero admitted.

"Alright," Wufei suggested as he realized that the subject seemed to make his friend a little uncomfortable. "Why don't we talk about something else?"

###

"Talk about what?" Quatre asked as he reached for another piece of bread, although he had a pretty good idea what Trowa was referring to when he asked if he wanted to talk about IT.

"About what happened earlier … your nightmare… why you are even touchier than usual today…" the other youth confirmed.

"As I said earlier already, you would think I am crazy if I told you. I'd rather have you think of me as 'touchy' than 'nutty'."

A tiny smirk formed at the corners of Trowa's mouth as he shook his head. "You are quite something, you know that?"

For a few minutes the two young men continued their meal quietly.

"This was really good. I usually don't eat this much, but I just couldn't stop myself." Quatre wiped his mouth and put down his napkin.

"Thanks, but I just took last night's leftovers and spiced them up a little and added some vegetables."

"How did you learn to cook like this?"

The other youth shrugged. "Call it necessity. I have been living on my own for a while now."

_We have absolutely nothing in common, do we? I have been living such a sheltered life; everything has been done for me. Like a bird in a cage…a gilded cage, but a cage nevertheless. I can't even cook a simple cup of tea, and he… I don't think there is anything he can't do,_ Quatre thought with a tinge of envy.

Trowa seemed to read his thoughts in some way when he said: "You and I we are very different, but the fact remains that we will be spending a lot of time together. I'm sure it isn't easy to suddenly be forced to live together with someone you barely know…"

"Isn't that what happens to most college students?" Quatre asked. "They leave home and have to room with people they never met before. Besides, this all was my idea, so I am not complaining."

"I'm not saying you were, but I believe that things would be a lot easier for both of us if we would know one another better. So I thought, every day each of us should reveal something new, something personal about us."

Quatre swallowed. He wasn't sure if he liked the idea or not.

"I'm not asking you to tell me your most inner secrets, Quatre, just to tell me something about yourself that helps me to understand you better… and vice versa. I'm usually not much of a talker either, but I'll go first, if that's okay?" Trowa looked at him questioningly.

"Alright," the other youth finally nodded.

"Earlier today you asked me if I knew how it felt to lose someone dear…"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" Quatre tried to apologize, but his bodyguard put up his hand to stop him.

"No, I'm glad it came up. You see, I lost my family when I was very young; my parents died and my sister and I got separated. I was lucky and was adopted by a very loving couple. But I never forgot my own family and the pain that came with losing them. My decision to work for a security company was based on that. I feel that if I can protect someone; keep others from feeling that same agony it's worth it."

"I…had no idea." The blonde's voice was barely above a whisper.

"I know. I don't usually go around telling my life's story to people. But I thought **you** would understand. …When your father hired me, he told me about your mother's dead."

Instantly Quatre's eyes narrowed. "Did he also tell you it was my fault that she was killed?"

"Actually, he mentioned that you might say something like it. He didn't tell me any details, but from what I gathered he doesn't seem to think that you are to blame."

"He is my father, and a diplomat to boot it; what do you think he would say?" the young man huffed.

"I don't know, the expression I have of him is not that of a man who sugarcoats things," Trowa pointed out.

"Yes, Father was always outspoken about his believes; something not everyone appreciated. I think my mother might have been more diplomatic than he. Even within the family. She tried to make sure that we grew up as normal as possible. My sisters would take ballet classes, had sleepovers at our house…stuff little girls do. It was at the day of my eldest sister's dance recital. Security wasn't quite as tied back then as it is today; Father even drove his own car with his body guard following us…"

"Quatre, you don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

"No, it's fine. When we got to the theater I left my favorite stuffed animal in the car, some kind of dog I don't even remember what it looked like. Bored and tired I kept fussing that I wanted Mister Ruff until Mother sneaked out during the first performance to get him. That's when it happened… They say it was a botched mugging…"

"But you don't believe it?" Trowa asked quietly.

"No. My mother was a brave woman but she wouldn't have risk her life for a few pieces of jewelry or her car keys. Life was too precious to her."

"Did they ever find the one who did it?"

Quatre shook his head. "No."

"How old were you?"

"Three…well almost four years. Definitely old enough that I could have done without that stupid stuffed dog."

"You are not responsible, Quatre. You were just being…"

"…a brat?"

"A child is what I was going to say."

"Thanks." The young man smiled softly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thanks." _Actually I feel a lot more at ease than I have in a long time. It seems as though he really understands. Maybe we have a lot more in common than I had thought._

"I'll do the dishes," Quatre suggested as rose to his feet. "It's only fair, since you have done all the cooking."

"Are you sure you don't want any help?"

###

"Positive." Milliardo nodded. "It's not that much. Treize and I will take care of it. Why don't you guys get the table ready for the card game in the meantime? Wufei, Duo you know where the stuff is, don't you?"

"Yes." The Chinese young man nodded. He and Duo had been spending enough time at the house to know their way around. It almost felt like a second home by now.

The two of them pulled a foldable poker table top from the closet in the hall and a box of cards and chips from one of the drawers in the entertainment center.

"You guys do this a lot?" Heero wanted to know as they set everything up.

"Occasionally," Treize nodded. He and Milliardo returned to the living room with an armful of beer and a large bowl of chips and nuts.

"Most of the time Alexander wins, though," Duo complained. "No offense Treize, but sometimes I think he is cheating."

"Who is Alexander?"

"Umm…Treize's grea…." The braided young man caught himself at the last moment, probably because Wufei had kicked him under the table. "Grandfather….His grandfather, he sometimes visits."

With a gaze at the professor Heero gave a slow nod. "I see. You are lucky to still have a grandfather. How old is he? He must be very sharp if he is still playing poker."

"You have no idea," Treize mumbled under his breath while giving Duo a sharp look urging him to be more careful.

"Are we ready?" Milliardo quickly asked, waiting for everyone to nod in acknowledgement before he started to deal the cards.

"Treize, I meant to ask…" Wufei looked up from his hand. "Do you know anything about that new transfer student coming to Marymount? I've heard the school board came together for an emergency meeting to make some changes in school policies to accommodate him."

"Yeah," Duo added as he threw a couple of chips onto the pile in the middle of the table. "Everyone is talking about him but no one knows anything specific. What is he; some kind of famous movie star?"

"No exactly." The professor shook his head. "He is the son of a very important politician. His name is Quatre, Quatre Winner. And as far as I know those policy changes were made to assure his security."

"You mean like a senator or something?"

"Actually, a member of the UN Security council," Treize explained. "From what I've heard he might even be next in line to replace the Secretary General."

"Wow, are you serious?"

Heero frowned slightly. "I always assumed there was an exclusive school for the children of those in such high political positions."

"You are correct, there is," the older man confirmed. "But it's a prison; those kids are free to attend any school of their family's choosing."

"I think he moved into the house next to mine," Heero said after a short moment of contemplating. "The place stood empty for several months, but last week there was a lot of commotion. First some company installed a new security system; took them two whole days. Then some men showed up… Another neighbor and I joked about it, because they looked like they worked for the secret service; which of course makes sense now, considering that they probably were secret service. But they left again and then a couple of days ago two guys moved in, about my age; one of them blond the other taller and dark-haired. Haven't seen much of them, though."

"I believe I've met them today." Milliardo remarked as he studied the cards in his hand. "I think the brunet is actually his body guard." _Of course, that makes sense… so much for my suspicion of him being the heir to come big crime organization, _he thought with a hint of sarcasm.

"Bodyguard?!" Duo echoed.

"Really? Where did you meet them?" Wufei wanted to know.

"They were looking at the same place as I, when I was out 'house shopping'."

"House shopping?!"

Milliardo gave his friend an amused look. "Have you been appointed as my official echo tonight?"

"Don't change the subject. Why were you house shopping?" Duo wanted to know

"Yes," Treize nodded. "Why **were** you house shopping? You said you would tell me when you got home."

"Don't worry," the blond grinned. "As I told you already I have no intention of leaving this place. I just had this idea…Have you ever noticed how many run down houses are staying empty or are for sale in town? Yet there are a lot of people, especially students looking for housing. I figured, buying a couple of houses, fixing them up and then reselling or even renting them out might be a good investment."

"I'm sure you realize that will take a bit of starting capital." Treize pointed out. He matched Duo's wager and raised it by a few more chips. Next to him, Heero hesitated for a moment then put down two of his cards and gestured for Milliardo to give him two new ones.

"Yeah, I know. I have been thinking about that too. I figure a couple Million would be a good start. It would cover the purchase of the first two properties and the reconstruction cost. I thought of using a general contractor for the 'heavy lifting', but little things like painting, cleaning etc we could do ourselves…"

"Ourselves?" Treize raised one eyebrow. "You already included me in your plans?"

"Well, you did have a lot of fun fixing up this place." Milliardo pointed out.

"True, but I also have a job. Unless you are expecting me to teach class while wielding a paintbrush my time would be rather limited."

"I realize that."

"You could always hire some students," Wufei suggested. "The bulletin board is always filled with messages from people looking for part-time or temporary jobs."

"Exactly." The blond nodded. "So, what do you think?"

"Sounds like a solid idea," Treize admitted. "It seems to me like you have given it a lot of thought. And there will always be students in need of housing. I'm happy to support you in whichever way I can."

"Thanks. Now comes the hard part; selling my father on the idea. My grandfather left me a small trust fund when he died, but I don't have full access to the money until I get married or turn 30."

"Married, huh?" Duo grinned. "I've heard Massachusetts* is supposed to be beautiful at this time of year. What do you think, Treize?"

The professor laughed. "Your way of thinking never ceases to surprise me."

"Why didn't that sound like a compliment to my ears?"

"Alright, alright….let's play cards shall we." Milliardo suggested.

"Agreed. But I think we should keep Duo's idea in the back of our minds, just in case." The sparkle of mirth in Treize's eyes was matched by a hint of humor in his voice.

#

"Alright, let me see what you got," Duo demanded as he put down his own hand, a full house consisting of queens and fives.

Milliardo shook his head as he showed his cards. He only had two pairs, and had been hoping to another matching card. The professor and Heero had folded earlier already.

Duo grinned triumphantly, but only until Wufei revealed a straight flush. "What sleeve have you pulled those from?" he complained. He didn't think his friend had anything because he had been drawing till the end.

"Lucky draw." With a nonchalant shrug Wufei pulled in the chips he had just won.

Across the table Treize stifled a yawn. "Sorry guys, I think I'm going to call it a night. Got to work tomorrow morning. But that doesn't mean you guys can't keep playing."

"It is getting late. I probably should leave, too." Heero remarked and Wufei nodded in agreement.

"Duo and I have some apartments to look at in the morning."

"You haven't found anything yet?" Milliardo asked as he started to collect the cards and chips on the table.

"No," his friend shook his head. "And we only have two weeks before we have to move out of the dorms."

"Well, if nothing else we'll just have to crash here for a while." Duo smirked. "You wouldn't mind, would you?"

"You two are looking for a place to live?" Heero asked. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"Anything really as long as it has 4 walls and a roof on top." The braided young man replied.

"Hmm… Since Pr…my father died I have been living alone. I barely even go upstairs except for when I use the fitness room. There are two spare rooms up there; one of my neighbors suggested I should rent them out. If you guys are interested and don't mind sharing a bathroom…"

His two fellow classmates exchanged a long look.

"You live up on Quails Ridge, don't you?" Duo asked. "That's a pretty nice neighborhood. A little too nice…maybe."

The remark seemed to confuse the young man somewhat.

"What Duo is trying to say is that we can't afford a place like that," Wufei explained. "But Thanks for the offer."

"I see…" Heero nodded. "I'm pretty sure we could something out. How much **can** you afford? Whatever that is, I'd be happy with it."

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. I mean, in any case it would be still more than what I make right now. Why don't you come by and take a look and if you guys like it we can talk about everything else."

After exchanging another long look with his friend Wufei finally nodded. "Sounds good. Are you going to be home tomorrow?"

"I should be. Just call me before you come, to make sure."

"You got it."

"Actually, come to think about it, let's make it Tuesday. I almost forgot I have to be at school tomorrow."

###

"At what time?" Quatre asked. He was sitting cross-legged in front of the low coffee table in the living room, working on his laptop, while Trowa had been watching some show on the discovery channel.

"Your meeting is at 9:30 and mine right afterwards. We probably should leave around nine."

"Actually," the young man suggested as he looked up. "Let's leave early and grab breakfast on the way. I read online about this small coffee shop near campus where everybody goes. I want to go there, they are supposed to have great food."

"I really should check the place out first." Trowa replied. "We could go there later next week."

"Oh, come on, it's a coffee shop. You have got to learn to relax a little, Trowa. Besides, they only serve crepes on Monday." Quatre gave the young man the best puppy eyed look he could master. "Please?!"

"Alright," Trowa agreed with a sigh.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." _I just wish you would understand…if I relax too much it opened the doors for potential disaster. _The brunet reached for the TV remote and changed the channel to the evening news. "I think I'll turn in for the night. Unless you still need me...?!"

"No, that's fine. I'm just going to finish this up and then go to bed myself," Quatre replied. "Good night."

###

"Good night, Milliardo, Treize." Heero nodded at the two men as they said their good-byes at the door. Duo and Wufei had just driven off and he was the last to leave. "I had great time. Thanks for inviting me."

"Thanks for coming. We should do this again, soon." Treize replied.

"Maybe at my house next time," the young man suggested.

"Sounds good. Good night, Heero."

"Good night," Milliardo wished, as well. And then, just when his friend was about to walk away, a smirk crossed his face. "Smooth move there, you know."

"What do you mean?" Heero looked slightly confused.

"Most people go at least on a date or two before inviting their lover to move in with them."

"I was just trying to be helpful," the younger man insisted, even as a hue of crimson stained his cheeks. "Besides, Duo is not my lover."

"If you say so…" Milliardo grinned.

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note: * At the time this story is set only Massachusetts allows same-sex marriage.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 4**

"Can I have a cup of coffee? Your House Brew, please." Trowa Barton looked up at the waitress. He hadn't even opened his menu, while his companion was still reading it front to back like it was some kind of gripping novel.

"One coffee…" the young woman turned toward Quatre. "Are you ready to order, too?"

"I'll have coffee as well, but I still need a few minutes to decide what to eat."

"No problem at all. Take your time. I'll be right back with your drinks."

As she left the blonde looked over to his bodyguard. "Are you really only having coffee?"

"I already ate earlier at home. I'm used to having breakfast soon after I wake up."

"That was 3 hours ago. Besides, they have great food here. I can't even decide what to have."

"What happened to Crepes?" Trowa wanted to know. "If I remember correctly they were the very reason we had to visit this place today."

"Sorry, I think you misunderstood." Quatre smirked slightly. "I merely pointed out that they only serve crepes on Mondays. I never said I wanted to eat some, did I?"

"No I suppose you didn't," the other youth admitted.

As the waitress brought their coffee and then returned to the bar, she passed a young man who had just entered the small eatery.

"Morning, Hilde," he greeted her.

"Morning, Wufei. Alone today?"

"Why, did you miss me?" a second youth asked as he walked in behind his friend. He was wearing his chestnut brown hair tied into along braid, and a wide grin on his face.

The waitress huffed in a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Like a hole in the head, Maxwell. Let me guess… the usual?"

"You know, one of these days I'm going to surprise you and order something completely different."

Quatre's gaze followed the two young men as they headed for an empty table. "Look, isn't this the guy who won last year's Kung-Fu Regionals? I believe I saw a picture of him in that school newspaper you were reading yesterday."

"Yeah?" Trowa looked up briefly. "I don't think I read that article."

"Hmm…"

"What?"

"I thought he would be a little... "

"Bigger...? You are talking Kung-Fu, not Sumo wrestling, right?"

"That's not what I was going to say," Quatre chuckled quietly. "He just seems so unassuming."

#

"So, what do you think about Yuy's offer... about us renting rooms at his house, I mean." Wufei asked as he slipped into one of the blue vinyl covered seats.

"I like it...not the idea of having to share a bathroom with you for another year, but hey, you can't have everything, right." Duo grinned cheekily, earning himself an insulted huff.

"What's that's supposed to mean?"

"You are always so picky."

"Picky, as in always having to pick up after you?" Wufei shot back. "But if my sense of cleanliness bothers you, we can always check if there are any apartments with two bathrooms available."

"Speaking of checking...**You** are being checked out." Duo tapped his friend's leg under the table. "Three o'clock."

Turning his head slightly to the right Wufei huffed. "Very funny, Maxwell." The table he was looking at was occupied by three little, old ladies, involved in a conversation about knitting and needle point.

The other youth rolled his eyes. "**My** three o' clock. The little blond; he is cute isn't he?"

"Hmm...."

"Maxwell, your order is ready," the girl behind the coffee bar called out. During school breaks, when the shop was short on staff, most regulars didn't mind picking up their food at the counter.

"You know him?" Duo asked as he rose to his feet.

His friend shook his head. "Never met him; don't know who he is."

"Let's see if we can change that." the braided young man smirked .

"Maxwell!" Wufei lowered his voice as he glared at his friend. "What are you planning?"

Duo just winked at him. "Relax, Wu."

Wufei's gaze followed him all the way to the counter where he picked up his food. _What in the world are you up to?_

##

"Excuse me!"

"Yes?" Quatre looked up. The young standing next to the table gave him a friendly smirk.

"Mind if I borrow you salt and pepper for a moment. The ones on our table don't seem to be working."

"Ah...yeah sure...Help yourself."

"Thanks." Duo looked at him from the side as he reached for the two little white shakers. "New here," he asked casually. "I don't remember seeing your face...es before."

"Yes, we just moved into town a couple days ago," the blond confirmed.

"Well, at least you found already one of the most popular hangouts in town."

"That's what I heard, but...," Quatre looked around at several empty tables and let the rest of the sentence hanging in the air, but Duo understood anyway what he was trying to say.

"Ah, don't be fooled. Once the new semester starts this place will be so packed that people will share tables."

"Really? Umm..." Quatre eyed the plate the young man was holding in his hand. "If you don't mind asking, what is this that you are having? It looks pretty good."

"This...?" Duo turned around where the young waitress was cleaning up a table. "Hey, Hilde, what do you call this again?"

"Bauern Früstück."

"Bauern... Fru...stück...?" The foreign word rolled heavy from Quatre's tongue.

"Yeah. It's a German recipe," Hilde explained as she came closer. "Basically an omelet made with roasted potatoes... bacon... onion...ham...eggs..."

"Hmm..." Quatre frowned slightly. "I must have missed that on the menu."

"You didn't. It's not on there. You see, one morning I was throwing breakfast for the staff together, using up leftovers from the night before, when Duo here walked in and demanded to try what we were eating..."

"and I am having it ever since."

"Oh, I see." Quatre gave a little sigh. "That's too bad."

"You want the cook to make you one?" she asked and then with a look at Trowa. "Or two?"

"You sure it's not too much trouble?"

"It's alright. Might take a few minutes, though."

"Thanks. That's okay. Trowa, you're going to have one, too?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll take a refill on the coffee, though."

"Coming right up." As the waitress turned her gaze fell upon the salt and pepper shakers in Duo's hand. "What's with the condiments 'stealing', Maxwell. Why aren't you using the ones on your table?"

"Because they aren't working."

"That's strange, they worked just fine when I refilled them this morning."

"Well, they aren't now. That's what you get for using cheap plastic stuff. Tell Howard to invest a few bucks and by something better."

"Stop complaining, Maxwell." A male voice came from somewhere in the kitchen area.

"Not complaining, just stating the facts." Duo shot back cheekily. "That's Howard," he explained directed at Quatre and Trowa. "He bought this place some 20 years ago or so... Nothing has changed since, including the out-of-date Hawaiian shirts he still wears."

Hilde laughed. "I am waiting every day for Tom Sellek to call and ask for those shirts back."

"Well, I'll better go eat this before it is completely cold," the braided young man gestured at his plate. "You guys wanna join us at our table?"

For a moment it looked like Quatre was going to accept the invitation but after exchanging a quick look with his friend he smiled apologetically. "Maybe another time. We have to leave soon anyway."

#

"Am I allowed to make friends, or is my father also paying you to keep people away from me?" Quatre asked after Duo and the waitress had left.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, but I assure you, the only thing I am 'paid for' is to keep you safe."

"Oh? Then the look on your face when we were invited to the other table, was just your normal anti-social expression?" The slight hint of sarcasm in Quatre's voice was hard to miss.

"I'm sorry if it appeared that way." Trowa apologized, but it was not quite sure how sincere he was about it.

There was a extended moment of silence as they sipped their slowly cooling coffee, until Hilde came heading their way with a plate of food, large enough to feed a small army.

"Looks like your Farmer's Breakfast is ready," Trowa noted.

"My what?" the other youth gave him a slightly confused look.

"Farmer's Breakfast. If I'm not mistaken, that's what ' Bauern Früstück' translates to."

The waitress put the plate own in front of Quatre with a friendly smile. "Enjoy."

"Thanks. I'm sure I will; this looks delicious." As the young man reached for the silverware rolled into a napkin, he gaze to his left at Trowa. "I had no idea you speak German."

"After High school a friend and I decided to go backpacking through Europe for a couple of months," Trowa explained. "We never got further than Germany. Our money was stolen and we ended up working on a small family farm in Bavaria for a few weeks. That's where I picked up a little German."

"Ah, yeah?" Quatre gave him a cheeky grin. "What was her name?"

His bodyguard gave an amused huff, but didn't answer.

"I see, 'the gentleman doesn't kiss and tell'." the blond teased.

"Exactly." Trowa confirmed. "And right now I think the 'gentleman' had a little too much coffee and needs to use the 'gentleman's room'."

"I hope you are not expecting me to go with you."

"No, but I expect you not to run off without me."

This time it was Quatre who huffed. "If you are referring to the other day at the mall... I was just going to look at a shop across the street. Don't worry, me and my breakfast we'll be here when you get back."

##

Duo waited until the tall, dark-haired, young man disappeared behind the door to the restrooms before he rose to his feet and walked back to the table where Quatre was now sitting by himself.

"I figured you might need these back now," he said as he returned the salt and pepper shaker he had borrowed earlier.

"Thanks," Quatre mumbled around a mouthful of potato and eggs and gave the young man a nod.

"You boyfriend seems to have a bit of a jealous streak."

It was a very casual remark, but Quatre's head snapped up and he quickly swallowed. "He isn't..."

"Your boyfriend...or jealous?"

"Neither," the blond replied, but the sudden hue of crimson in his cheeks was hard to miss.

Acting like he didn't notice Duo smiled apologetic. "Sorry for the implication. By the way, my name is Duo Maxwell."

"Quatre...Winner."

"So... how is the food."

"It's great... really. I think they should put it on the menu."

"That's what I have been trying to tell them for weeks now. But hey..." Duo shrugged. "What can you do." With a casual nod in Quatre's direction he strolled back to his table and grinned at his friend who was waiting there. "It's him, I knew it."

"It's who?" Wufei frowned. Even after all this time, he sometimes had sometimes trouble following his friend.

"Our very own school VIP."

"What makes you say that?"

"He denied that the dude he is with is his boyfriend."

Wufei's frown only deepened. "You lost me there. The fact that he isn't gay makes him a VIP?"

Rolling his eyes Duo gave his friend a long look. "For someone with your IQ you are a little slow sometimes, you know that? When I say 'VIP' I mean the guy everyone is talking about, the politicians kid. Remember Milliardo mentioned that he met him the other day and he had a bodyguard with him. So I figure if 'Mister Handsome' isn't a jealous boyfriend..."

"...he has to be the bodyguard?" his friend concluded.

"Bingo. But aside from that, his name is Quatre Winner. Last night I did some research on the internet, because I couldn't sleep..."

"I keep telling you not to drink all those sugary sodas after dinner."

"Yes, Mother, I'll remember it for the future. May I continue?"

"Please do. I am dying to find out how that brain of yours works," Wufei shot back. Someone listening to them might have never have guessed that the two of them were best friends.

"Like I said I was doing some research. Treize said that his father is a member of the UN Council and might even be next in line to replace the Secretary General, and when I checked that out the name Zayeed Winner came up. I admit the name Zayeed indicated Middle Eastern decent while the kid looks more like he is born in Scandinavia... but what are the changes that there are two council members by the name of Winner?"

"Not very high." Wufei replied.

"So you admit I am right?"

"I'll only admit that you are making more sense than when this conversation started."

###

Closing his cell phone, Trowa Barton looked up at the sound of the office door being opened. He had been playing games to kill time while his charge was in the meeting with their advisor.

"...no, I think I'm all set, Professor. Thank you." Quatre stepped through the door, followed by a man in his early sixties with slightly graying but obviously colored hair, and a olive completion that might have made him a very handsome and attractive man in his youth.

"Very well, Mister Winner. If there are any problems or questions, don't hesitate to come by or call." The professor shook hands with the blond before turning toward the young man waiting in the hall. "You must be," A brief gaze at the papers in his hand to verify the name. "Trowa...Barton?!"

He quickly checked the name again, something that didn't escape Trowa's trained eye.

"That's right. Is there a problem?"

"No, not at all." The man gave him a friendly smile. "I'm Professor Diciasetto; I'm only filling in for your regular advisor who called in sick this morning. Shall we go inside?"

"One moment, please." Quatre spoke up. "I'll be at the library, Trowa. Pick me up there when you are done here."

The bodyguard opened his mouth and for a moment it looked like he was going to object but then he just nodded. "See you in a while."

As the two men disappeared behind the closed door, Quatre headed down the long hall of the administration building. From one of the tables at the small lounge near the entrance, he picked up a flyer with a map of the campus.

Outside the building the young man squinted into the sun and looked around. He checked the map trying to orient himself and find the quickest way to the library. _This place is huge, it might take a while to figure out where everything is. Looks like I have to follow the Campus Center Drive past the athletics fields and that should take me right where I want to go._

Stuffing the paper into his pocket he started to walk. But suddenly after a few hundred yards the center drive ended and the young man found himself surrounded by green lawn, flower beds and park benches. _This is definitely not the athletics field,_ he realized, and with a sigh he pulled out his map again. _Alright, where did I go wrong?_

"Hello there."

Quatre nearly jumped. He had been so absorbed in what he was doing that he never noticed someone approaching from behind. He turned, then smiled as he recognized the young man. "It's you."

"You look a lot better today." The tall, blond studied him for a brief moment. "By the way, I'm Milliardo Peacecraft. I don't think I caught your name the other day either."

"Quatre Winner," he introduced himself. "So, you are going to school here too?"

"Used to," Milliardo replied. "I graduated last Spring. Today I am only here on an delivery errand," he explained. "My... housemate left his 'umbilical cord to the world' at home."

At Quatre's somewhat puzzled look the young man laughed. "His PDA. He insists that he can't live without it, yet he keeps forgetting it."

"Maybe he just knows that he can rely on you to bring it to him if he does."

"You are probably right," Milliardo admitted. "You are alone today?"

"My friend has a meeting with his advisor. I figured I'd check out the library while I wait for him. But..." Quatre's smile turned a little sheepish. "I can't seem to find it."

"The library?" Milliardo asked. "Well unless you are talking about the one in town, you are walking in the wrong direction."

"Really?" The young man took another look at the piece of paper in his hand. "But according to his map it should be right here."

"Let me see." Milliardo only took one gaze then snorted. "Of course."

"Of course?!" Quatre echoed.

"Every year at this time when the new students arrive some jokers replace the flyers put out by the administration, with their own, slightly altered version. This time they weren't even that inventive." the older youth pointed at the compass rose on the very bottom of the page. "They scanned a page, flipped it vertically and reprinted them. They fixed all the street and building names but not the compass directions."

Now Quatre felt even more foolish for not noticing it himself. "Thanks. So I guess I just have to turn around and take the opposite direction?"

"Let me take you there."

"Are you sure? I really don't want to trouble you."

"Na, it's no trouble at all. It's practically on my way."

##

The library was nearly empty which wasn't really surprising considering that the new semester wasn't starting for another few weeks.

Quatre looked around, and caught the attention of the librarian, a stern looking woman with dark hair. She looked up from the book she had been reading and gazed at him from over her little rimless glasses.

"Can I help you?"

For a moment the young man wondered if those glasses were a job requirement for librarians, along with that expression that could give any drill sergeant a run for his money, but he managed a friendly smile.

"Where would I find old yearbooks?"

"How old?"

"well.... mid 60 to mid 70 perhaps."

"Anything after 1970 you will find on the left side row 5 shelf 7. The older issues we have started scanning into the computer system, and you will need to have an access card for that."

"How would I get one?" he asked. "Sorry, I just transferred here."

"I can make you one; you will need your student ID."

"Thanks. I'll start with those books and if I can't find what I need I'll come back."

"Very well." With that her attention went back to the novel in front of her, as though he didn't exist anymore.

Quatre made his way to the bookshelf she had indicated. Luckily there were several copies per year and he managed to find one of each yearbook he was looking for. Books in hand he found himself an empty table nearby, and reached for a pencil and piece of paper.

The idea of checking out yearbooks had come to him last night, when he was lying in bed going in his mind over the strange dream again he had. Since this was a college town it was only fair to assume that the young people in his dreams had been students. First thing in the morning he had called his eldest sister catching her just before she left for work. With her help he was able to find the titles to two of the songs that had played on the radio in his dream. Considering their date of release and some other clues he got from clothes and hairstyles Quatre figured that those people must have been students sometime in the late 60s to early 70s.

He decided to start at 1975 and work his way backward from there. Trying to recall the faces from his dream he slowly flipped through the pages. The first three books held nothing, and Quatre was beginning to wonder if he was wasting his time when his eyes caught a picture of a couple of guys in front of a old convertible car. He recognized both, and his heart started to pound. The somewhat faded printing next to the picture identified the young men as Peter Sievers and Tim Shaw. He remembered Shaw to be the one who had teased him about his music in the dream. At least now he knew their names.

Encourage by his success Quatre continued to flip through the book and a few pages down he came across another familiar face. It was the young man who had called out to him first, threatened to drink all the beer on his own. His hairstyle was slightly different; parted in the center, but there was no doubt that it was him. Excitedly Quatre searched for the name next to the picture and his eyes went wide. _Wow, this is...weird. I'll have to show this to Trowa. _

He quickly wrote down those names that he had found, put the books, except for the one from 1972, back onto the shelf, and headed for the Check-Out counter, just as his bodyguard walked into the library.

"Trowa, over here," he called out, earning himself a displeased stare from the librarian.

"I'm sorry," Quatre apologized as he grabbed the other youth by the arm and pulled him back to the table where he had been sitting.

"What's going on?"

"Look at this..." He flipped the yearbook open to the page he had marked earlier. Making sure to cover the text under the picture with one hand, Quatre pointed at the young man with the dirty blond hair and the sideburns. "Guess what his name is?"

There was a long moment silence before calmly Trowa replied. "I don't need to guess. I know him. This would be the real Trowa Barton."

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note: I wish everyone (belated) happy Holidays and a wonderful New Year. I hope it will please some of you to know that one of my new year's resolutions is to complete at least one or two of my unfinished stories in the new year.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 5  
**

"The REAL Trowa Barton?" Quatre stared at his bodyguard in a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity. "And what would that make you?"

Closing the book on the table with one hand, Trowa straightened up. "I'll tell you on the way to the sheriff's office. We will be late if we don't leave soon."

_Right, the meeting with the sheriff. I almost forgot. _Quatre nodded. "Let's go."

Now that he had shown Trowa the picture there was no need to check out the book , anymore. He quickly popped it back into the shelf before following the other youth. He could hardly wait for his explanation; and as soon as they got outside Quatre looked up at him questioningly. "So...?"

Trowa didn't answer right away. It seemed as though he was searching for the right words, then he finally nodded. "Alright... If you remember, I told you already that I had been adopted. The Barton's were a older couple, too old maybe to take in a newborn baby or infant. I was almost four already, not an ideal age for adoption either. But for some reason they picked me, and I don't think it could have turned out better for me. It is common for adopted children to take on their new family's last name, but for some reason the Barton's also decided to change my first name, and thus I became their son, Trowa Barton..."

"What...what was your name before?" Quatre inquired carefully, not sure if it was alright to ask.

But Trowa didn't seem to mind. "Triton," he replied. "Triton Bloom."

"Triton... Bloom...," the blond repeated the name slowly. "It sounds nice. But you still haven't explained what you meant earlier when you called him the 'real Trowa Barton'. "

"I know."

They had reached the parking lot, and Trowa pulled the car key from his pocket. He unlocked the Mercedes and waited for Quatre to strap himself into the passenger seat before he continued. "It wasn't until I was in my teens that I found out the Barton's used to have a biological son, named Trowa. I had seen pictures of him here and there, in the house, but my parents rarely spoke about him."

"Did he die or something?"

"I'm not sure." Trowa admitted as he pulled out of the college's main gate. "What little I know about him I learned from his sister Leia when she came to visit her parents. And from what she told me he just seemed to have disappeared one day."

"Disappeared... how?" Quatre frowned.

"It was during the Vietnam War..."

"He was a soldier?"

"No, quite the opposite actually I would say." Trowa replied. "His best friend had been drafted and the two of them decided to leave the country together. And that's pretty much the last thing his family ever heard from him."

"So he might be living somewhere in Canada?" Quatre had learned about the Vietnam war in history class and he remembered reading a lot of young people opted to go to Canada rather than fighting in a war they didn't believe in, especially in the later years when war opposition was becoming greater and greater.

"I suppose there could be a chance, but the fact that his parents named me after him twelve years after he went missing tells me that they were convinced that something had happened to him."

"Do you think that's why they decided to replace..." Quatre swallowed the rest of the sentence and gave the other youth am almost stunned look. "I'm sorry, that didn't come out the way it was intended. I did not mean to imply that you are just a replacement or..."

"Don't worry about it," Trowa waved the statement away. "No matter what the Barton's reason was for adopting me. I grew up in a good home. - Ah there we are, the sheriff's office." He gestured at a flat, white building ahead of them. "I'm not sure exactly why the Sheriff wanted to see me, but I hope it won't take too long."

####

Taking a look at the half-empty shelves, then another one at the books still piled up in boxes, Treize Khushrenada sighed. _This is going to take forever._

Headmaster Stiller had finally given him a new, bigger office, but only after he had threatened to break his own windows into the small, basement dungeon he had called his office until now.

He had brought his own desk, a large heavy mahogany piece he had found at an antique store, a much more modern and very comfortable leather chair, and boxes and boxes of books and personal items from home.

Treize checked his watch; it was almost noon, before grabbing another box and carrying it over to one of the large build-in shelves.

"Excuse me! I'm looking for Professor Khushrenada's new office; am I at the right place?"

The tawny-haired man turned with a smile. "Milliardo?!"

Returning the smile, his lover covered the distance between them with a few steps to greet him with a brief but affectionate kiss. "I'm sorry it took so long," he apologized as he handed Treize his cell phone. "I run into a couple of old friends...we started talking and I lost track of time. Let me make it up to you by taking you out for lunch. Unless of course you are too busy for that."

"Hmm..." Treize stroked his chin in a playful attempt to appear thoughtful. "Lunch with the most gorgeous man I've ever met, or stacking a bunch of old, dusty books... that's a difficult decision."

Deep, soft laughter pearled from Milliardo's lips.

"Or..." a sparkle of mirth lit up the older man's eyes. "I could take your offer and have lunch with YOU."

Milliardo snorted."Just for that, **you** will pick up the tap. Let's go, I'm starving."

####

"With all due respect, I find the suggestion that me and my men are not capable to provide sufficient security for Mister Winner a little...offensive."

Sheriff Bonaparte actually looked more than just a **little** offended.

Before Trowa could open his mouth to reply, Quatre stepped in confirming that, although he would deny it vigorously, the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it came to diplomacy.

"Sheriff, I'm sure my father never intended to question your capabilities and I apologize when it appeared that way," he smiled politely. "But you have to understand, my father is a very firm believer that politicians under no circumstances should abuse their power. He would never want taxpayer's money be wasted to provide special protection for me."

Bonaparte cleared his throat, looking a little less disgruntled already. "I suppose that's very admirable."

"I knew you would understand."

Turning back toward Trowa the Sheriff gazed briefly at the folder on his desk. "Well, I had all your papers checked, including your permit to carry a concealed weapon. Everything seem to be in order. Still I suggest that you contact me in case there should be any problem... which I don't think there will be."

"Of course." The young man nodded.

"In that case, I have no more questions."

"But I do," Quatre once again jumped in. "Sheriff, if you don't mind. I was wondering... Do you happen to know of any drowning accidents in this town?"

Trowa threw his charge a surprised look, and the sheriff frowned slightly. "Drownings? No! We had a handful of deadly traffic accidents but that's all."

"I don't mean recently but rather 30 years ago, in the early seventies maybe."

The frown only deepened. "30 years ago, that was a little before my time as sheriff, but no, not as far as I know. This is a very quiet and peaceful community...some petty thefts, some drunken brawls; stuff you can expect with so many young people around, but no deaths. In fact the last murder in town happened a hundred years ago, and we even managed to solve that one recently. So, as you can see you and your father don't need to worry about your safety."

"Oh, I am not worried," Quatre assured him with a polite smile. "But did you just say you solved a murder that happened 100 years ago?"

"Indeed," Bonaparte confirmed with a proud nod. "With the help of a college professor and some modern science, and some good note keeping by my grandfather, who originally worked the case."

"That sounds fascinating. Thank you for your time, Sheriff."

##

"They are wrong!"

Turning the key to start the car engine, Trowa gazed at the young man besides him in a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "Wrong about what?"

"Someone DID drown, I'm sure of it, but... " Quatre trailed off for a brief moment of contemplation. "Maybe they're not even aware of it."

"Care to elaborate, and tell me what's going on? I might have only known you for a short time but even I could tell that you have not been your usual self since you went to look at that house yesterday. Quatre," the young man urged. "What happened there? Did it have anything to do with the young man I saw you with?"

"Milliardo Peacecraft? No...no, absolutely not. he just was nearby when I had my dizzy spell, and offered help."

"Then what? Tell me."

Quatre sighed. He still was convinced that Trowa would think he was crazy when he told him the truth, but he also realized that he bodyguard wasn't willing to back down this time, not until he got an answer. "Fine, but at least have the courtesy to listen to the end before you tell me that I am nuts."

"Fair enough."

Staring out of the window for a few moments, while Trowa pulled out of the parking lot, Quatre tried to decide where to begin. "You see," he finally started. "Ever since I was little I have been very perceptive to people's emotions and occasionally even thoughts, - I believe it is called extrasensory perception. But before you ask... No, I cannot read people minds. But I do sometimes have strange dreams...dreams of events that happen later on."

"You are psychic?"

"No!...maybe...I don't know. I've never seen it that way. It's just something I was born with. Some people can add up 8 digit numbers in their head in a split second, I have occasional premonitions. It's nothing like in the movies or like they show on TV where the person has this vivid dream, then wakes up and runs to the police to tell them something terrible will happen and can give them the exact time and location of the event. It's more like little bits and pieces, little scenes like flashbacks. More often than not I see the events through the eyes of someone who was... will be there. Sometimes I have related dreams over and over stretched out over months and even years and then one morning I turn on the news and...You know, sometimes I wish it was like in the movies, and I could stop bad things before they happen. "

Trowa placed his hand onto the blonde's shoulder. The pain in Quatre's voice was hard to miss. "It's alright. I think I understand. why don't you tell me instead why you are so convinced someone drowned in this town, and how does the house you went to fit into it."

"I wish I knew. As soon as I walked in I was struck by a wave of strong emotions, anger, sadness, fear ... Usually I only sense such intense feelings in a large crowd, but there were only two other people in the house as far as I know. And when I went into the backyard to get some air it got even worse, and that's when I felt it for the first time, the sense of drowning and not being able to do anything about it. It was so intense I might have fainted if not the young man who snapped me out of it."

_That explains his question about the swimming pool before we left the house. _Trowa gazed briefly to his right then back onto the road. "Later at home, you had another dream; the nightmare I woke you from?" It was a statement more than a question.

Quatre nodded. "In my dream I was back in that house, back in a different time as well. And there I saw HIM."

"Him?!"

"Your... The real Trowa Barton."

Trowa's eyes widened slightly. He looked more surprised now than he had when Quatre told him about his abilities. "Are you sure?"

Another nod. "Positive. That's how I found him in that yearbook; looking for pictures of people I'd seen in my dream."

"You think he drowned?"

"No." Quatre's came quick and without hesitation. "Trowa... you said that he had a best friend, the one he was supposed to have gone to Canada with. Do you have any idea what his name was?"

"I'm sorry," Trowa shook his head. "If someone ever told me, I can't remember."

"Could it have been Mike or Michael?"

"I really don't know...I'm sorry."

####

"I'm home!" Treize closed the door behind himself then had to dodge quickly when a colorful rubber toy came flying down the stairs, followed by a furry ball of lighting. Missing him by just inches, the toy was heading for the vase sitting on a commode and would have probably knocked it over if not for his quick reflexes.

"Careful there," he called out as he steadied the vase with one hand. "This is why we don't throw balls, or anything else for that matter, in the house." The tawny-haired man gave Cabal his toy and petted the dog's head. "Milliardo, are you home?"

"In here," his lover's voice came from the living room. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just wish Alexander would at least take it into the backyard when he plays fetch with the dog." As he walked into the room, Milliardo looked up from the book he was reading.

"I thought we told him that already."

"Well, I guess that proofs that even Ghost suffer from selective hearing loss."

Milliardo gave an amused huff and put down his book. "How was your day? Did you get everything moved into your new office?"

"Most of it, just a few things left for tomorrow." In front of the chair his lover was sitting in Treize held his step, he dipped his head, placing a gentle kiss onto Milliardo's lips. "What have you been up to, today?"

"I talked to my father."

"Oh?" The professor reached for the morning paper still lying on the table, and dropped onto the couch. "To ask him about the money? What did he say?"

"Well, the good news is he didn't tell me right away to forget the idea..."

"But...?"

"He wants me to convince him that I have really thought things through."

"Which you did, didn't you?"

"Yeah. So, I'll visit the lion in his den tomorrow."

"Alone? Or do you need some backup?" Treize asked, a hint of humor in his voice.

"I think I'll be fine. I'm planning on calling my mother tonight and ask her to prepare Father's favorite breakfast for tomorrow. That ought to put him in a good mood."

"You are quite devious, did I ever tell you that? Not even I would have thought of using food as a weapon against someone."

"No, well I guess you still have a lot to learn then. But speaking of food... You want to go out for dinner or stay at home."

"Hmm..." Treize thought about it for a few moments. "Do we have anything to eat in the fridge?"

"We made some stuffed chicken breasts earlier, the ones you love with the parmesan crust."

"That sounds delicious, but I really feel terrible thinking of you slaving away in the kitchen for me."

"It wasn't that bad," Milliardo insisted. "The three of us worked out a pretty good system; even made some extras to freeze for later."

"The three of us?" his lover echoed.

"Yes, **I** seasoned the beasts and filled them, **Alexander** rolled them up and coated them with cheese and breadcrumbs, and **Cabal** stood guard, cleaning up any morsels that accidently dropped to the floor."

Treize laughed softly. "That **does** sound like you had it all worked out perfectly."

"We could eat early and go out afterwards, for a movie perhaps." Milliardo suggested.

"Yes, I suppose..." The older man wasn't too intrigued by the proposal. What he really wanted was a good soak and perhaps a nice massage afterward. After carrying all those boxes and books today had his muscles felt stiff and sore. "Or we could eat early and spend the evening at home... in the hot tub perhaps."

His lover smirked softly. "As usually, your idea sounds so much better than mine."

"Oh, I am sure I can come up with a few better ideas as the evening progresses."

"Really?" Milliardo purred. "I'll be looking forward to it."

####

Squinting at the LED display of his clock radio, Quatre sighed. It was almost one in the morning. He had been tossing in turning for the past two hours, unable to fall asleep. Every time he was about to drift off his mind would go back to the conversation he had with Trowa, earlier in the car.

He felt better after telling Trowa everything, a little surprised maybe that the young man had taking his revelation so well, but very relieved.

_"Everything in life happens for a reason, my mother used to say."_ Trowa had told him. _"Even if sometimes the reasons are not obvious. So, maybe there is also some hidden purpose as to why you and I ended up here, together."_

Could it really be that easy? Strangely enough, Quatre's mother used to tell him the same thing when he was little; when he first discovered his abilities and was frightened of them. So, maybe there was some truth to it. Although, he would never understand what reason could there have been for her to die so young... or for Trowa to lose his entire family.

But there was something else that Trowa had said, something that set him thinking. "_Are your certain that person... Mike... drowned here in town?" _

He never thought about it before, but could there be other possibilities? After all, it was said that he and Trowa, the real one, had gone to Canada together. or did they?

With another sigh Quatre swung his feet over the side of the bed. _Maybe some warm milk will help._

As he slipped out of his bedroom quietly and headed down the hall, he noticed a light still burning downstairs in the living room.

"You are still up?"

Trowa looked up from his laptop. "Just about to turn in. But why are you still awake?"

"Couldn't sleep." Quatre shrugged. "I thought, I'd make some warm milk. You want some?"

"Thanks, but I am fine." The young man turned off the computer and flipped it close. "I emailed Leia," he said suddenly. "To ask her about the name of Trowa's friend. I hate bringing up her brother, but if there is any chance to find out where he is or what happened to him..."

Quatre nodded. "I thought, maybe tomorrow we could try to find out how that old house is connected to everything. Maybe if I'd go there again, stay a little longer..."

"You shouldn't." Trowa's voice was firm. "You almost passed out the first time around."

"But..."

"No buts, I am the one responsible for your wellbeing, remember."

"Fine," the blond agreed with a soft smile. "Even though I think you are just being a worrywart."

"A worrywart?!" The bodyguard raised one eyebrow in amusement.

"Yes, a big fat worrywart." Throwing his head back in his best imitation of a spoiled diva, Quatre turned on his heels and strut into the kitchen, followed by soft laughter.

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 6  
**

_"Mike?! Is that you?" He was walking toward the administration building when a slap on the back nearly knocked him off his feet. Fighting for balance he turned his head and looked over his shoulder._

_"Trowa? What are you doing here?"_

_"I was just about to ask you the same. I thought you were still somewhere in Europe."_

_"No, I came back to start college."_

_"Here, at Marymount?" Trowa laughed. "You and me back in the same school. Can you believe it? Let me introduce you to come friends, come on."_

_He didn't protest and allowed himself to be dragged over to a group of teenagers. _

_"I want you to meet a friend of mine," Trowa put his arm over his shoulder as he introduced him. "Michael and I grew up together...until his folks sent him off to some fancy prep school that is."_

_"Hey Man!"_

_"Hey. Listen I still have stuff to do. I'll catch you guys later." Shrugging off his friend's arm he turned and started to walk away._

_"Wait." Trowa caught up with him with a few big steps. "Mind telling me what's eating you, Man?"_

_"You are," he snapped, a hint of annoyance in his voice._

_"Why, because I'm psyched about seeing you again? Chill out, man, you could have just told me to get lost."_

_"That's just it, I don't want you to get lost. I'm thrilled to see you too, but it's been four years...I can't just pick up where we left off back then, and pretend nothing happened."_

_Ring.....Ring...._

_What's the...? _It took Quatre's brain a few moments to realize that it wasn't the school bell but the alarm on his clock radio that had woken him. Still drowsy he reached out, his fingers searching for the shut off button, and finally stopping the annoying sound.

The young man opened his eyes slowly trying to blink away the last traces of sleepiness.

_That dream..._ He still remembered every detail. _Another part of the puzzle it seems. I'm almost sure now that Mike really is that best friend Trowa had been talking about. But it also appears that something happened between them, sometime in the past; something that had changed their relationship, somehow. And it wasn't just Mike going off to prep school. _Yet, from what he recalled from his earlier dream, they appeared to have things patched up.

Slipping out of bed Quatre yawned and shuffled into the bathroom. From the mirror his reflection stared back at him with sleep swollen eyes and tousled hair. He splashed some cold water into his face, still pondering the meaning of his newest dream. _What are you trying to tell me?_

The door to Trowa's bedroom was open but the house empty when he came downstairs. The bodyguard was probably out for his habitual morning run. Quatre wasn't quite sure if Trowa simply liked to exercise, or if he went out there to make sure the neighborhood hadn't been taking over by assassins or terrorist over night.

A soft smirk on his lips he walked into the kitchen. The coffeemaker was running. Trowa must have put it on a timer before he left, which meant he was probably on his way home by now. Sure enough, as he was grabbing a coffee cup from the cabinet he could hear the front door open.

"Good morning," Quatre called out as he reached for a second cup.

"'Morning."

"Coffee is just ready."

"Oh good, I can use it." Trowa's voice was muffled by the towel he was drying his face with.

Quatre gazed at him when he walked into the kitchen. He was sweating, but not panting or out of breath. "How far do you actually run every morning?"

"Just a few miles," Trowa shrugged. "It's a nice area."

The other youth huffed in a mixture of amusement and sarcasm. "Just a few miles, he says."

"It's not that bad, really. Just a matter of getting used to it."

"If that's supposed to be some kind of hidden invitation, forget it," Quatre filled first Trowa's cup then his own. "I don't function well this early in the morning."

This time it was Trowa who huffed. "Yes, so I've noticed. But if you ever change your mind, you are welcome to join us."

"Us?"

"Found a running partner the other day."

"Oh?!"

"The guy next door," he explained. "He knows his way around and showed me a few trails I hadn't yet discovered."

"The one with the silver sports car? He goes to Marymount too, I think; I saw the parking sticker on his windshield. Does he live all alone in that big house?"

"I believe, so, but I'm not sure." The young man took a cautious sip from his cup. "We just meet for running; not for talking."

####

"Anyone home?!" Duo called out as he held his step in the entry and looked around.

Moments later Professor Khushrenada appeared at the top of the stairs; he must have been in the study. "Ah Duo, nice to see you. Did Milliardo leave the front door open again when he left?"

"No, it was closed when I came, the old man let me in."

"Old man?" Treize raised one eyebrow. "You are not referring to Alexander, are you?"

"Well, considering when he was born and that he is your great, great grandfather, the term fits, wouldn't you say so? "

"Hmm...I don't know. But I am quite sure he will let you know if he doesn't appreciate his new nickname. Duo, why don't you go ahead and make yourself a home. I'm just finishing up a report and I'll be down in a minute or two. Milliardo should be home soon too."

"Where is he anyway?" Duo wanted to know.

"He is just taking Cabal around the block. Grab yourself a beer or something in the kitchen."

"Don't have to tell me that twice," the young man grinned.

The fridge was generously stocked as always, and Duo was still trying to decide between a bottle or a can of beer when he heard the front door opening again. "Hi Milliardo." he called out over his shoulder as he finally grabbed a can of white ale.

He could hear steps closing in, then Milliardo appeared in the kitchen door. "Hey Duo, you are alone?"

The younger man frowned. "Why do people keep asking that? Is it really so surprising to see Wufei or my on our own? I mean, it's not like we are joint at the hip or anything."

"I didn't said that, did I?" With one smooth motion the tall, blond swipe the beer can from Duo's hand and popped it open. "Thanks."

"Hey! That was mine."

"Was it? Sorry." Milliardo took a long sip and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I thought you got it for me."

"Right," Duo huffed as he grabbed himself another beer. "So, why did you ask me to come over alone and then act all surprised about it, anyway?"

"Sorry, that would have been me." Treize smiled apologetically, and even Milliardo gave him a questioning look.

"I was using your computer," he explained, "and didn't even realize that I was on your account until I had already sent the message. I didn't think it matters. The reason... I wanted to talk to you about Wufei, Duo. Shall we go sit down?"

"Talk about Wufei?" the young man echoed as they headed into the living room.

"His birthday is coming up, isn't it?" Treize dropped into one of the leather recliners. "Do you know if he has anything planned for that day; a party or something?"

"He didn't say anything, but I highly doubt it. Wu isn't much of a party animal to begin with, and right now he has other things on his mind. He spends at least 2-3 hours each day at the dojo, trying to get as much training in as he can before school starts."

"Yes, he is putting a lot of pressure on himself, isn't he? From what I've heard Marymount never made it past the regionals and he will be the first student representing the school in any martial arts at the national championship. But if he takes this too serious and doesn't take a break every once in a while he will wear himself out."

"That's what I keep telling him." Duo agreed.

"That's why Milliardo and I were thinking about doing something for him for his birthday. There is that Chinese restaurant at the new Asian shopping center over in Woodland Heights... the Jade Dragon. They are supposed to have great food."

"Yeah but also a long waiting list. The place is very popular."

"I know, we won't be able to make dinner reservations at such a short notice, but I think we should get a table for lunch, since it is a weekday..."

"And afterward we can come here, have cake and hang out for the rest of the day." Milliardo, who had let Treize do most of the talking so far, added.

"I think Wufei would like that. What do you need me to do?"

###

A piece of paper, ripped from a notebook or writing pad, suddenly floated past his face and landed on the table in front of him. Surprised Trowa looked up from the crossword puzzle he had been working on.

"What's that?"

"A piece of paper."

"No kidding?" the bodyguard's voice was heavy with sarcasm.

"Tomorrow it's our turn to sign up for classes."

Realization started to dawn, and Trowa shook his head. "I told you already, I will be taking the same classes as you are."

"I know, but the problem is, I can't decide," Quatre admitted as he turned around a chair, and sat down with his arms crossed on the backrest. Only now Trowa noticed that he was holding a notepad in his hand. "I picked my major and a couple classes I really would like, but for the rest..."

"Well, let me see."

"No!" Pulling away when the other youth was reaching for his pad, Quatre shook his head firmly. "I want you to make your own list . Write down what classes you would like to take... if it was up to you. Then we crosscheck. If we both have some of the same classes on our list that's the ones we will take."

"Fair enough," Trowa agreed as he reached for the paper and started to write. "Will you at least tell me what your major will be?"

"Architecture."

"Architecture?!" It sounded somewhat surprised.

"Yes, it's something I have always been interested in. One of the positive things about traveling and living in so many different cities and countries as a child, was that I got to see so many different buildings and styles, influenced by culture and history. Imagine the idea of designing something people will still look upon long after you are gone. or something that might influence the way people live.... What?" Quatre frowned slightly as he noticed a soft smile on Trowa's lips.

"Nothing. I just...I have never heard you talking so passionately about something."

"Oh," the young man lowered his gaze as he felt himself blush. "Well, in any case; One of the reasons I came to this school is because of the reputation of their architectural department."

"And the other reason? It was the farthest your father would let you move away?"

Quatre chuckled. "Well, maybe that too. But I was actually more impressed with their music department."

"Music and architecture, that seems a strange combination, unless you are planning on building a concert hall," the other youth joked.

"Yea, I suppose. But I just love music, always have. Father insists it's something I must have inherited from my mother's site because he claims to be totally tone deaf. Music helps me relax."

"I know what you mean. I always find it comforting to play my flute when I want to clear my mind."

Quatre's head snapped up. "You play the flute?"

"I play several instruments, but the flute is probably my favorite. How about you?"

"As a child I took piano and violin lessons, but since the violin is so much easier to carry around..."

"Did you put any music classes on your list?" Trowa wanted to know.

"Yes, but I don't have much hope that we will get in. From what I've heard Marymount's music department is one of the best in the country, several of their graduates have gone on to play or compose at the world's greatest concert halls. I'm pretty sure those classes are filled with juniors and seniors before we get a chance to register."

"Maybe," Trowa agreed, "but that doesn't mean we can't try. Besides, Professor Diciasetto teaches Composition and Instrumental Methods. Technically he is our advisor at the moment, so maybe we should try to take advantage of that."

"Hmm...," Quatre seemed skeptical. "I'm more concerned about History. I really need those credits but from what I've heard it's a very popular course ever since they got a new teacher last semester."

"No sense in worrying about things we can't control. Let's wait till tomorrow and see what we can do then."

"You are probably right." The young man nodded. "By the way, did you ever hear back from your... from Leia Barton?"

"Not yet. Truth to be told, I'm not even sure if that email address I have still works. You see, we have never been... very close. By the time I was adopted she had already left for a boarding school in Switzerland. I think the fact that her parents named me after her real brother was something she was never comfortable with, and I can't say I blame her."

"But that's not your fault."

"No, but I didn't make things easier either. The first time she came home for Christmas break and my parents called me in to meet my sister...I..." Trowa trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

_...I lost my family when I was very young; my parents died and my sister and I got separated... _that statement suddenly echoed in Quatre's head, and his stomach clenched. "Oh no... you thought they had found your real sister?!"

Trowa just nodded. "I yelled at Leia that she wasn't my sister, and when I ran out of the room I could hear her call out after me, something like I wasn't her brother either." He paused briefly before he continued. "As we got older our relationship became a little more... civilized, but we never grew close. We never really spend enough time together to get to know one another."

There was a long moment of silence before Quatre finally mustered the courage to ask. "Trowa... have you ever found your sister, or found out what happened to her."

The other youth shook his head. "I tried, but I had not much to go on. The little country side hospital we were taken to after the accident burned down a few years later; all documents and patient's charts were destroyed in the fire. Maybe I could have tried a little harder, but..."

"But?"

"Catherine's injuries were far more serious than mine. I know she was taken to a different hospital by air ambulance. I'm just not sure if I am ready to face the possibility that she might have not survived. As long as I am not sure, I can at least hold out hope that we might see each other again, some day."

Quatre's hand clenched around his notebook. He could hear the pain in Trowa's voice, but he could also feel it deep inside his chest like a big block of ice. _I'm sorry Trowa, I'm so sorry._

####

"So," Treize asked as he put a bowl of trail mix and some chips on the table. "Did you and Wufei go to look at Heero's house yet?"

"House?" Duo laughed as he grabbed a handful of fruit and nuts. "THIS..." he gestured around the room. "Is a house, and a pretty nice one I have to admit, but that place is a...a dream wrapped in concrete. Did you know he has a home theater room? Surround sound, recliners... with cup holder ... and the biggest, TV screen I have ever seen. Not to mentioned every game system ever made. Wireless internet connection throughout the entire house. You can sit outside by the pool and still surf the web. "

Now it was the professor who laughed. "A boy has to have his toys, right? I take it you guys will be moving in then?"

"This weekend." the younger man confirmed. "We still have to go back tonight and sign a lease agreement, but Yuy said it was just a technicality, something his lawyer insisted on."

"Well, I am glad it worked out for your guys."

"Yeah me too," Duo agreed. "Your two were right I guess. Yuy seems to be a pretty decent guy once you get to know him." As he reached out to snatch another handful of snacks the bowl suddenly moved just beyond his reach. "Very funny, old man." he huffed as he tried again with the same result.

"Don't say I didn't you," Treize remarked with a quiet smirk. "I don't think he cares much for that name."

"He must really like you, though." Milliardo pointed out. "Considering that he could do so much worse than just take away your snacks."

Duo swallowed as he eyed warily upward in the direction where he could feel the ghostly presence ever so slightly. He still wasn't able to sense Alexander like Milliardo and Treize could, but he was beginning to become more aware of him. _Good point, I never thought of it that way._

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 7**

Most of the lights at the music center were turned off when Quatre and Trowa entered the complex that was located on the east side of the campus, away from most of the other class rooms.

"Are you sure he is here?" Trowa asked as he looked around. **He** was Professor Roberto Diciasetto, the head of the schools music program.

"According to his secretary, yes. She said he was getting things ready for classes on Monday, but that doesn't mean he can't have stepped out for a moment." Quatre started walking down the long, empty hall. "Professor... Professor Diciasetto?!"

He passed one room and a second, before his eyes caught sight of a piano, a Steinway Grand piano, very similar to the one he remembered his mother playing on when he was little. Almost instinctively he walked through the open door and stepped closer, reaching out to let his fingers run over the smooth black finish. But as soon as he touched the wood a surge, almost like an electrical shock, when through his body...

_..."Professor...?!" Quatre suddenly found himself back at the door looking at a man in grey trousers and a fitted blazer sitting at the piano. As the man turned his head Quatre recognized Professor Diciasetto, a very young Professor Diciasetto that was. He could have been hardly older than 30._

_"What is it, Mister...?"_

_"Chapman, Michael Chapman. I'm just starting here as a Freshman. I was going to sign up for one of your courses, but the class was already full..."_

_"I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe you can try again next semester."_

_"Yes, of course, but...I was told you are always willing to take an extra student or two..."_

_"Mister Chapman, that usually goes for people who are...shall I call it gifted...people who are dedicated to music and have had prior training. If you have any credentials from a music school or specialty program just bring them by my office and I'll take a look at them."_

_"I don't, I took some lessons at my old school but that's it. But I'd still like a chance. If you'd just listen to me...please."_

_"Alright." The professor checked his watch. "You got 5 minutes."_

_The young man nodded as he stepped closer. "Can I use that?" he asked gesturing at the piano._

_"Be my guest."_

_After a few short warm-up exercises he started to play, and Diciasetto's somewhat bored expression suddenly changed and became interested._

_"Who wrote that?" The professor asked as he had finished the piece._

_"I did," he replied. _

_"You did? You wrote this yourself?"_

_"Yes, I know it's not very good yet, but that's why I am here. I've heard you are one of the best."_

_"Don't belittle yourself, Mike... Is it alright for me to call you that?" Diciasetto put a hand on his shoulder._

_"Um... yes of course."_

_"You have talent, I mean real talent. It would be a shame to waste it. I have to be somewhere now, but come and see me in my office this afternoon. We will make sure you get into those classes you want to take."_

_"Thank you, Professor."_

_As he left the music room he nearly collided with a figure leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Trowa?! What are you doing here?"_

_"I was looking for you."_

_"Have you been listening?"_

_"Yeah." Trowa Barton uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the wall. "Man, when you told me you wanted to write music I was more thinking more along the lines of Clapton or Jim Morrison but..."_

_"Oh, shut up!" He started to walk away, more embarrassed than angry but after only a few steps his friend had caught up with him._

_"Hey, I liked it, alright. The old man used to take me and my mother to the theater and opera when I was younger. He called it 'cultural exposure'. Your stuff sounds 10 times better than anything I've heard there."_

_He huffed. "You know I never could tell if you are serious or just making fun of me."_

"Quatre?!"

He snapped out of his vision when someone touched his shoulder.

"Ah, Trowa, what...what just happened?"

"You tell me. You suddenly spaced out; scared me there for a moment. Are you alright?" The young man looked at him concerned and Quatre put up a smile.

"I'm fine. I just...I think I had another dream."

"A dream? You weren't asleep."

"Well, then let's call it a vision. I saw him, Trowa. Mike Chapman, he was here in this room, playing at this very same piano and talking to Professor Diciasetto..."

"Really?"

"Yes." Quatre nodded. "And the re... no," he shook his head. "I don't want to keep calling him the 'real' Trowa, it makes it sound like you are some kind of fake. Let's stick with the 'other' Trowa instead."

"Thanks." The other youth smiled softly. "You saw **him** too?"

"Yeah..." Quatre quickly told him what he had seen in his vision. "I can't quite figure it out yet, but I'm more convinced than ever that he is trying to tell me something...something important that happened or started here at Marymount. Maybe..."

Trowa held up his hand stopping the blond mid-sentence. "Do you hear that?"

Sure enough, now he could hear it too; a piano, sounding like it was being tuned by someone. Following the sound they finally found the music teacher in one of the rooms almost at the end of the hall.

"Professor?" It felt almost like déjà-vu seeing him sit there at the piano still wearing gray trousers, only the style had change quite a bit. And yes, of course he was 30 years older now.

"What are you doing here, Mister Barton and Mister...Winner it is, isn't it?"

"Yes. We were looking for you," Trowa explained. "Your secretary said we might find you here."

"I see, what can I do for you?"

"We were told that all of new applicants for your classes have to perform an audition this weekend, and you will be picking your students based on their performance."

"Yes, that's how I have been doing it for the past few years. It's seems to the best way to evaluate potential talent," Diciasetto confirmed.

"The thing is, we only found out about it this morning, and one day is really not enough time to prepare for an audition," Quatre pointed out. "Is there any other way... or does this mean we will have to wait until next semester to try out."

"Hmm..." The professor frowned slightly as he seemed to think about something. "You two transferred from Hargrave, if I remember correctly?"

"That's right," the young man confirmed. When Trowa's fake transfer papers were created it was decided that it would be best for them to come from the same school, which would also explain why they knew one another already.

"Well, Hargrave school is a elite institution, I'm sure that their music program more than prepared you for our classes. That said, I think I could make an exception and exempt you from having to audition. I'll prepare your papers and I'll be looking forward to seeing you in my class next week."

"Um...thank you." The two young men exchanged a brief look, both of them a little surprised about the quick solution to their problem.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No thanks...or actually." Almost about to turn away Quatre stopped himself. "May I ask you a question, Professor."

"Yes, of course."

"Do you by any chance remember a student by the name of Michael Chapman? I believe most everyone called him Mike."

"Chapman...? No... I don't think so, sorry."

"He took some of your classes in the early 70s I believe."

"The early 70s you say." The professor gave an amused huff. "Young man, do you have any idea how many students I have taught since? I can't possible remember every one of them."

"Yes, I guess not. Well, thanks anyway. Good bye now." Quatre's eyes narrowed as he turned and slowly walked out of the class room. _He recognized the name Trowa Barton right away when he saw it on Trowa's transfer papers, but he doesn't remember one of his students... that just seems strange._

"Well, that was less painful than I had thought."

"Hm."

Trowa threw the other youth a surprised look. "You don't sound too happy."

"Hargrave is an elite school, alright. But not for its educational achievements but only due to the fact that the students there all have parents who work in one way or another for the government. Somehow I feel like I got into his classes because of who I am, not for what I can do."

His bodyguard simply shrugged.

"You don't feel the same?"

Another shrug, as a tiny smirk started to curve his lips. "Why would I? **My** father doesn't work for the government."

Quatre snorted. _How do you always manage to take the wind out of his sails? _

_#_

"So, what next, bookstore?" Trowa asked as they left the music complex behind.

"Yeah, we might as well while we are here," the other youth agreed. "The last thing I want to do is spend the very last weekend before school starts driving around to get my text books together.

"Agreed."

The campus bookstore was located just off side the main plaza, only a few minutes on foot from where they were.

"Welcome." A young woman with long light brown hair greeted them as they entered the store. She had her hands full ringing up a long line of customers. Quatre returned her greeting with a smile and a nod as he pulled out a list of text books required for the classes he and Trowa were taking.

"Let's split up," he suggested. "You take the top of the list down to Science II, General Physics, I'll try to get the rest."

"Sounds good."

As Trowa checked his own list Quatre looked around to find the section he was looking for. He needed to get some books for design class as well as their architecture and music courses. He was pleased to see that the store not only offered reading material, but also art supplies and more. He picked up two drawing kits along with some notebooks and pencils he knew they would need and grabbed the books on his list. As he headed back to the checkout Trowa was already standing in line, behind a tall handsome man with ginger blond hair who seemed a little older than most of the students in the store.

"Did you get everything?" he asked as he passed his things on to the other youth.

Trowa shook his head. "I couldn't find one of the physic books. The shelf was empty were it should have been. Maybe they have some more in the back."

"Maybe."

"Ah, Professor. Long time not seen." the young woman behind the counter greeted the man in front of them.

So he wasn't a student after all.

"Miss Peacecraft, I didn't know you were working here now."

"I just started."

"I see. How was your summer?"

"Really nice but way too short." She sighed as she started to ring up his books.

"I heard you went to Hawaii with some friends. That does sound nice. Oh yea, I am also supposed to pick up and order for Duo Maxwell, I was told it would be waiting here at the counter."

"Leave it to Maxwell," she laughed. "Only he would use one of his professors as an errand boy."

"Well actually, he is doing me a favor, fixing my car; so picking up some books while I am here anyway is a small price to pay. Speaking of which, how much do I owe you?"

"That would be 126.98 all together."

He paid and took his purchases, while the young lady turned to her next customer.

"Did you find everything alright?" she asked Trowa as she started to ring up the purchases.

"Actually I was hoping you have another copy of general physics II in the back, I couldn't find it on the shelf."

"Hmm... I'm afraid everything we have is out in the store. But let me check if there are still any left. Sometimes people move them and don't put them back in the right place."

She checked her computer then shook her head in regret. "I'm sorry, but we are all out. I'm not even sure when the next shipment comes in, there is some kind of problem with the printing company."

"Is there another bookstore somewhere around?" Quatre wanted to know.

"There is, but I'm afraid you won't have much luck there either. Someone from the store called me this morning to see if we got our shipment of text books yesterday. Apparently they didn't."

"We could try online...?" Quatre suggested, directed at his bodyguard.

"Yes but they won't get here in time."

"Excuse me." The Professor, who had still been flipping through a magazine, turned toward them. "Sorry for butting in, but there IS another bookstore in town you might want to try."

"Oh?"

"It's called the Book Baron," he nodded as he pulled out his valet and removed a small business card. "They deal in used and out of print books so you might get lucky to find a used copy someone turned in."

"You are right, Professor." The young woman agreed. "I go there a lot to buy novels but I didn't even think of looking there for text books."

"Umm, thank you." Quatre studied the card he had been handed. "We will definitely check it out, Professor...?"

"Khushrenada."

"I'm Quatre Winner, thanks again for the tip."

"Trowa Barton," the body guard added. "You teach history, right?"

"That would be me, yes." The older man nodded. "By the way if you don't have any luck at the Book Baron either, come to see me. I know for sure we have a copy of that book at home that I could lend you at least till you are able to buy one."

"That's very nice of you, thanks."

"My pleasure, if you'll excuse now."

_I can see why his classes fill up so quickly. _A ghost of a smirk crossed Quatre's lips as he watched the professor leave. _Those looks and that voice, I bet no one ever falls asleep in any of his lectures. _

_###_

"Pull over, that's the house."

"Right here?"

"Yes, 228, that's what Professor Khushrenada said wasn't it?"

"Yes." Trowa confirmed as he moved the Mercedes to the right and stopped in front of the little Victorian style house Quatre had indicated.

After having no luck at the Book Baron they had called the History teacher to take him up on his offer and get at least one copy of the book they needed, until the ones they ordered over the internet arrived. He had asked them to come by his house around four o clock; it was ten after four now.

"Do you want to go by yourself?" the bodyguard asked.

"If you don't mind. It shouldn't take long."

Trowa nodded. "I'll wait until you are inside, then I'll go get some gas and run through the car wash. I saw a gas station just down the road.

"Thanks." Quatre climbed out of the car and closed the door by himself.

He checked the address one more time before walking up the three little steps to the entrance. The young man knocked and waited for someone to answer the door. For a moment there he could have sworn the blinds on the side window to his right moved slightly, but it took another knock and several more moments before he could hear footsteps. Then the door was opened by a tall, handsome and familiar young man.

"It's you?!"

"We meet again." Milliardo Peacecraft was wearing a pair of faded jeans but not much else. His long hair was pulled together in a loose pony tail.

"Yes, what a coincident."

"Either that or I am being stalked." Milliardo velvet-soft voice was laced with a mixture of amusement and sarcasm. "Can I help you?"

"Um..m yes, maybe. I was actually looking for someone else, a teacher at Marymount, Professor Khushrenada."

"Ah Treize, yes he lives here, but I am afraid he isn't home at the moment."

"Oh, good. I mean it's not good that he is not home... but rather it's good that he actually lives here. You see, I just thought for a moment I had gotten myself lost again." Quatre suddenly realized that he was babbling and that Milliardo was still looking at him waiting for him to explain what he wanted.

"Umm... I'm sorry. The professor offered to loan me a book; they were out at the bookstore. He said he would be home by four."

"Yes, he usually is, I'm not sure what's keeping him. Why don't you come in."

"Are you sure? If it's too much of a bother I can come back."

"No need. But what about him?" Milliardo nodded at the car in the street.

"Oh, he has a couple things to take care of and then he will be back to pick me up." Quatre turned and gestured or Trowa that he could leave before following the other youth into the house.

"What book did you want to borrow?"

"Science II General Physics."

"Ah yes, we do have that one," Milliardo nodded.

As they were talking Quatre could hear noises from the back of the house, it sounded like someone was trying to break down the backdoor.

The other youth grinned apologetically. "Our dog," he explained. "We were playing in the backyard when you knocked. He doesn't like to be left outside by himself. I'd better let him in, give me one minute."

"Of course." As he left Quatre let his gaze wander, studying the crown molding on the ceiling and a picture on the wall, when he suddenly had the feeling of someone standing right behind him. His head snapped around but there was no one there. He frowned because the feeling still remained. _Alright _he told himself _now you starting to see things everywhere. Pull yourself together and stop imagining._

"Sorry about that." Milliardo was back only a moment later, wearing a T-shirt now over his jeans. "I put him in the kitchen. So, let's see we can't find that book for you. It might in the attic boxed up with all my other old school books, but let's check the study first. Let's go upstairs, shall we?"

"Right." "With a nod Quatre followed him up the wide staircase. From the top landing he gazed back down and had to do a double take. His shoes which he had slipped off quickly and left just the way they fell, were now standing neatly side by side next to the small commode.

_What is going on here?_

"Wait, you said Science **II**?" Milliardo turned his head and looked back at him. "I thought you are a freshman."

"No, I already have a year behind me, I just transferred."

"Ah I see." Milliardo flipped the light switch in the study as they walked in. "You are taking history too?"

"Wanted to, but the class was full."

"Give it a couple of weeks; we had a good 25% drop out last year after Treize started teaching."

"Oh?!"

"Yeah, most people only see the charming 'after school' side of him and don't realize that is nothing like that once he goes into teacher mode. He has no patience for people who think they can slack off in his class."

"So, he and you are living together... ah I'm sorry," Quatre could feel himself blush. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I meant living together as roommates, of course."

Milliardo laughed. "You can say it any way you want, and it would still be correct. It's no secret anymore that he and I are an item. - And even that didn't stop him from threatening to flunk me unless I got my act together."

"That tough, huh?" Somehow Milliardo's pleasant nature made the younger man feel a little more relaxed. He was going to say something more when the phone downstairs started to ring.

"Speaking of the devil. That's probably him right now." Milliardo smirked. "Excuse me for a moment."

As he left the study to get the call Quatre looked around. _What a beautiful desk. _He took a step closer and run his finger over the surface, triggering the vision in his mind of a young man sitting at the desk. He was wearing an old fashioned coat with a white rose adorning the lapel. It looked elegant and was probably very stylish back in its time. He seemed to be writing some kind of letter of sorts, frequently dipping his pen into a inkwell shaped like a globe. After a few moments he put down the pen and looked up as he reached for a half empty glass of brandy.

_Professor Khushrenada? _As sudden as the vision had started it was gone. Quatre frowned, still puzzled about it, when his eyes caught a painting over the fireplace. It was a portrait, and again the man depicted in it looked very much like St Marymount's history teacher. This time he was wearing what appeared to be some kind of uniform. _It can't be, can it? Unless of course...He is into historical reenactment. Of course, it makes sense, with him being a history teacher and all..._

His train of thoughts was suddenly interrupted when he felt someone standing directly behind him. Assuming that Milliardo had finished his phonically and returned, he turned his head only to stare into empty space once again. Then he felt something rush past him, more like a gust of cool air, and suddenly some of the books on the shelves started moving as though they were being flipped through by invisible hands. Here and there a volume was pulled out half ways then pushed back into place until finally one of the books was completely removed. It hovered in mid air as it slowly moved closer, then stopped, and Quatre was certain this time that something... someone was standing in front of him.

The young man swallowed, his mouth suddenly gone dry, but still he reached out for the book that was obviously being handed to him. Sure enough, it was exactly the one he had come for.

"Thank...you. It seems... you know your way around here." For some reason Quatre was amazed rather than afraid. He felt no ill will or malice from the... whatever it was that shared the room with him. "I take it you live here, and you seem to be happy too..."

Footsteps coming up the stairs interrupted his little one-sided conversation, and moments later Milliardo Peacecraft walked back into the study.

"Sorry about that. Sure enough, that was Treize. He apologizes. He was held up in school and won't be home for another half an hour or so, but he said the book should definitely be here in the..." Milliardo suddenly noticed that the young man was already holding the textbook in his hand. "Oh, I see you already found it."

"Ah...yes it was right here," Quatre gestured at the spot where the ghost had removed the book. "Not hard to find at all."

"Well then... do you want to stay until Treize comes home? I could make some coffee or tea or something."

"Thanks, but maybe another time. Trowa is probably already waiting for me," the young man declined politely. "Please say hello to the professor and thank him for me."

"Sure thing. If there is anything else you need just come by any time, or for that matter feel free to come by even if you don't need anything."

"Thanks."

As he followed Milliardo downstairs Quatre threw one last look back over his shoulder. _Thank you!_

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 8**

"Hey there." Quatre was reaching for the morning newspaper on the ground when a somewhat familiar voice called out to him. He turned and smiled as he recognized the young man.

"Hi, Duo, right?"

"The one and only," the youth grinned.

"You are moving in?" Quatre asked, gesturing at the truck in the driveway next door. "What happened to the guy who used to live there?"

"He still does. We're just renting a couple of rooms."

"Ah I see. Well then, welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thanks. So we will be neighbors, huh? By the way I saw your name on some of the registration rosters, looks like we will are taking some of the same classes."

"Really?"

"Hey Maxwell, these boxes won't carry themselves inside." Wufei Chang called out as he walked back to the truck after carrying a load into the house.

Duo gave a smirk as he shrugged. "I'd better get moving before my slave driver picks up the big whip," he said, his voice loud enough for his friend to hear him.

Wufei simply snorted and grabbed another box, and Quatre couldn't help but smile. Somehow he had the feeling those two of them were pretty close, in spite of the huffing and grumbling between them.

As he walked back inside Trowa was in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

"You didn't go running today."

The other youth shook his head. "Heero said he was going to be busy this morning and I didn't feel like running alone."

"Someone is moving into his house."

"I know." Trowa stifled a yawn as he settled down at the kitchen table. "The truck woke me."

"Ha...but do you also know **who** is moving in?" Quatre looked at him victoriously, certain that there was actually was something he knew for once before his bodyguard. His triumph however was short lived.

"Maxwell special and the karate kid, Heero told me yesterday."

"Hmph."

"But **how** do you know?"

"Well, I just happened to run into them while I was bringing in the newspaper."

"We don't get the newspaper." Trowa replied dryly, then his gaze fell upon the still folded up paper in the blonde's hand. "You took the neighbor's?"

"Well technically...it was on our property line. Not my fault the paper boy has no aim." Quatre pouted. "What was I supposed to do? I heard the truck and was curious, but just going out there to look would have made it appear like I'm nosy."

Trowa actually glared at him, and Quatre finally burst out into laughter. "I'm just kidding. It's a promotion. They are delivering free papers this weekend, probably in hopes that people will subscribe afterward. Did you **really** think I'd steal the neighbor's newspaper?"

###

"Alright, that's the last one." Duo put down the box he was carrying and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Man, what did you put into these things, Wu, rocks?"

"Books, alright. It's those little square paper objects with writing in them. People like to read them. You should try it someday, Maxwell." his friend shot back as he tossed him a bottle of water. "Here drink something."

Catching the plastic bottle with ease Duo dropped down on the moving box with a sigh of relief. He unscrewed the top and gulped down the cold liquid in one long sip. "That felt good."

"Have you guys decided yet who takes which room?" Heero Yuy walked out of the kitchen handing the braided young man another bottle of water.

"Thanks. Not yet. But I think Wufei should take the one closer to the bathroom. You know what they say about older men."

"What the heck is that supposed to mean." Wufei glared at him. "You are only three months younger than I am."

"Exactly." His friend winked at him with a smirk. "It's decided then, I'll take the room by the stairs, Wufei the other one." Checking his watch Duo gave another sigh. "I'd better return the truck. I promised the boss I'd have it back by noon. We have another move scheduled this afternoon. I'm helping out, so I won't be back till later tonight."

"Hold on," Heero stopped him as he was about to leave. "Your house key. Oh yeah. I'm working today too; will be leaving around 1."

"You work?" Duo was genuinely surprised.

"Yes, down at Lew's garage."

"Why? I mean it's not like you need the money."

"No," the young man admitted. "But there are a lot of people who work even so they have a lot of money. I guess I work there because I can learn things I couldn't anywhere else."

"Hmm... makes sense."

"Well the, looks like Wu will have the whole big house all to himself." Duo grinned at his friend. "No wild parties while we are gone."

"Very funny, Maxwell."

"One more thing," Heero added. "There is pizza in the fridge from last night. Feel free to eat it. And help yourself to anything else you want, but if you finish something up make sure to write it down on the shopping list."

"Ai ai, Sir. But now I'd better get rolling. The boss is going to kill me if he doesn't get the truck back in time. See you guys later. Be good and don't do anything I wouldn't do." With a wink and a tip of his baseball cap Duo left through the front door and moments later they could hear the moving truck's engine start.

"Is he always like that?"

Wufei shook his head as he prepared to take stuff upstairs to what had been decided to be his room. "Only on days that end in y. But that's what makes him Duo Maxwell, isn't it"

" I guess so." The other youth gave an amused huff. "You want some help with that?"

"Na, that's alright. I'll take it slow and start getting settled in. Oh, by the way, is it okay if I use the fitness room later?"

"Yes, absolutely, use anything in the house you want...well, except for the stuff in J's old lab, of course."

"Of course," Wufei nodded.

####

Checking his watch for the sixth or seventh time Quatre took a deep breath to calm himself down. He was sitting at a little table outside the 'Little Corner Shop'. _Maybe he isn't coming. _

The young man turned his head toward the large window, looking inside the shop, where Trowa was sitting over a sandwich and a cup of coffee. He was glad that the bodyguard agreed to give him at least this much privacy, but at the moment it seemed rather unnecessary. _He might have gotten the wrong idea when I called him._

_"Milliardo Peacecraft?!"_

_"Yep."_

_"This is Quatre...Quatre Winner. I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you."_

_"Alright, go ahead."_

_"No, I mean personally. Can we meet somewhere?"_

_"Umm...why didn't you tell me when we saw each other yesterday?"_

_"I couldn't... I mean I wasn't sure if I should tell you or now. But after thinking it over I think you should know."_

_"Very well. There is a little soup and sandwich shop at the corner of Mulberry and 3rd Street, they have an outside patio and the weather is just perfect. I'll be there at 1 o clock, does that work for you?"_

_"Yes, one o'clock that's perfect. I'll see you then."_

_He probably thinks I'm some kind of nutcase. _Quatre gave a sarcastic huff. _And that's probably not going to change either, once I tell him what I have to tell._

It was twenty minutes after one already. He raised his head and looked around once more, almost ready to give up and leave when he saw him coming down the street, accompanied by a slender white and brown dog. Milliardo was wearing a pair of tan cargo pants and a white shirt that was left unbuttoned far enough to reveal part of his well-chiseled chest. The dog was prancing at his side, it's nose high, the long silky hair moving gently in the breeze.

"I'm sorry to have made you wait." The young man settled down in the chair across from Quatre and the animal curled up under the table, resting his long head on his master's feet.

"So, he is the one who was trying to break down the kitchen door. He is beautiful."

"Thank you. So, what is it you needed to talk to me about?" Milliardo looked at the other youth questioningly.

"Okay, this might sound crazy, but ..." Quatre paused. _How do I explain this? _"While I was at your house yesterday I had the feeling that we weren't the only ones there. There was something else...something not exactly human."

"You mean him?" Milliardo gestured through the table top at the sleeping borzoi. A soft smile, almost a smirk played on his lips, but his eyes were guarded in some way that Quatre couldn't quite explain.

"No, that's not what I mean," the younger man replied, but before he could go into further details a waitress stepped onto the patio and approached their table.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked directed at Milliardo.

"What's your special of the day?"

"French onion soup with half a club sandwich."

"That sounds good. Can I have the sandwich with Swiss cheese and an extra side of pickles?"

"Absolutely," she nodded. "Anything to drink?"

"Iced tea, please."

"Coming right up." She turned toward Quatre. "Can I get you anything else?"

"I think I'll have another tea, thanks."

As she left Milliardo leaned over the table and propped his chin onto his interlaced hands. "You were saying?"

"Yes...What I felt was not a person or animal. It was a little more... umm...supernatural in nature."

"Supernatural?"

"Yes, I know it sounds strange, but... have you ever noticed anything happening in your house that your couldn't explain. You see, I believe... no..." he shook his head. "I **know**, there is a spirit living within that house. But," Quatre quickly added. "I don't mean to alarm you in any way. I don't think he means any harm whatsoever. It's not a vengeful spirit. He's probably been around for quite some time. And I felt no malice from him, but instead I actually think he is contend and quite happy."

"Now that seems interesting."

Quatre sighed, fully convinced that Milliardo was being sarcastic "I know, you probably think I am nuts."

"Not at all. What I meant is that it is interesting that Alexander made himself known to you. He is usually quite shy when it comes to meeting strangers, you see."

"Alexander?" Quatre echoed more than just a little surprised.

The older youth nodded. "Alexander Khushrenada; he is Treize's great grandfather."

"So you know about him?"

"We know," Milliardo confirmed, "But that's only because Treize and I have both a special connection to him. We can sense him and interact if he wishes too, but neither Treize nor I can tell how he feels. Our friends, who have been around him for as long as we have, can still barely even sense his presence. Yet you just met him, spent less than 10 minutes in the same house with him and you can tell that he is happy? If that's true...what or who exactly are you?"

The young man didn't answer right away, because the waitress return with their orders, giving them a few moments to think.

"That's kind of difficult to explain," he finally said as they were alone again. "Because truth to be told, I don't fully understand it myself. It's something I have lived with most of my life. Ever since I was a kid I can..."

"See dead people...?" Milliardo's voice was laced with humor and Quatre couldn't help but laugh.

"No not exactly. It's more that I can feel people's emotions, but I didn't even realize until recently that seems not only to be limited to living beings. But what amazes me the most right now is the fact that you seem to have similar abilities. I've never met anyone else before..."

"I wouldn't exactly say that." Milliardo took a bite from his sandwich.

"But you said you can sense Alexander, and you can interact with him."

The older youth shook his head as he swallowed and took a sip from his iced tea. "Like I said that's only because Treize and I have a special connection to him."

"You said Professor Khushrenada is his great grandson, right? Do you know if the two of them bare any resemblance?"

"They look like twins if you ask me, although either of them insists on having a better taste and style." Milliardo smirked.

Quatre chuckled. "Then the painting hanging over the fireplace in the study is a portrait of Alexander, I assume?"

The other youth just nodded in confirmation as he chewed on another mouthful of sandwich.

"Hmm..."

"What?"

"I think I might have had a short vision of Alexander, sitting at that very desk in the study, is that possible?"

"Ah...yeah. The study is one of the rooms in the house we restored to the way it used to be, because he still likes to hang out there and read when he is alone at home. The desk use to belong to Alexander originally. What did you see, if I may ask."

"Not much really. Just a man writing a letter. At first I thought it was Professor Khushrenada, but his clothing was rather old fashioned. Tell me, how does it feel living under the same roof with a...ghost."

Milliardo shrugged. " By now it's become almost normal to have him around, but it did take some getting used to at first, knowing that there is something in the house following you around like a shadow... Which reminds me, where is your shadow today?"

Nodding at the glass window Quatre gestured at the table where Trowa was sitting. "I asked him to give us some privacy, I haven't told him about... my meeting with Alexander. I wasn't sure you would want anyone else to know."

"Does he know about your...ability?"

Quatre nodded. "Yes, I told him."

"Just out of curiosity, how do people normally react if you tell them?"

"Well I general I don't go around telling people, it depends on the situation."

For a long moment Milliardo didn't say anything, but looked like he was thinking. Then he finally asked. "So you really think he is happy?"

Quatre assumed that he was talking about Alexander. "Yes, that's definitely the impression I got."

"We were wondering about that..." the older youth stared down at his plate. "At first we thought he couldn't move on because the question of his death was still unanswered. But after the murder was solved we started to wonder if he continued to stay because he wanted to or just for our sake. But it's nice to know he actually likes it here."

"He was murdered?" Quatre asked.

"Yes, right there at his house..." Milliardo told him a brief version of what had happened.

_The sheriff mentioned a murder that happened 100 years ago... _Quatre remembered_. _ _I wonder if that's what he was referring to. Amazing, they managed to find clues and solve a case that was that old...which reminds me..._

"Milliardo, there is something else I wanted to talk to you about, something totally unrelated. I called the Real Estate agency yesterday and Missis Rama told me that you had put in a bid for the house we were looking at earlier this week. Are you planning on buying it?"

"Yes, most likely." the young man confirmed. "Not to live in but as an investment. The seller is out of town until the end of next week, though. I'll have to wait and see if he accepts my offer."

"Just so you know, I asked her for another private tour of the property. I wanted to go back to the place and take another look."

"You're not planning on outbidding me, do you?"

"No... no of course not," Quatre assured him. "I really have no intention of buying the house. There is just something about it, though...something I'd like to check out."

"Not another ghost I hope."

"I am not quite sure... but maybe...it's possible."

Milliardo's head snapped up. "That was supposed to be a joke."

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 9**

"Just so you know, I'm going back to that house next week." Quatre announced suddenly as they were driving home from the "Little Corner Shop".

Trowa didn't have to ask what house he was talking about. "I thought we decided that you wouldn't." he replied, never even taking his eyes off the road.

"No, that's what **you** decided." the other youth corrected. "I'm sorry, I thought about it and I... I have to go there. There is a reason I'm having these dreams and visions and I need to know why? At this house is where it started and I feel that I can find the answers to my questions only there. I mean, this is about 'Trowa' too. Aren't you the least bit curious to find out what happened to him?"

"Not at the price of your health I am not. Quatre, you almost passed out last time."

Quatre smiled softly. "Thanks for worrying about me. Let's make a deal, you come with me inside this time, and if at any time you feel like we should leave, I won't argue with you."

"Very well." Trowa accepted only because he knew that it was probably the concession he would get. "Did anyone ever tell you that you are stubborn as a mule?"

"You mean my father didn't warn you?" Quatre's smile turned into a sly smirk and his bodyguard huffed in a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

The dark Mercedes turned into the neighborhood and headed up the steep inclining road to their house.

"Oh no!"

Trowa threw a brief but concerned look to his right. "What's wrong? You got another vision or something."

"A very dark one," Quatre confirmed, but the slight hint of sarcasm in his voice was hard to miss. "Please tell me that Limousine in front of our house is just standing there because there was no other parking space available."

"Hmm..." Trowa eyed the diplomatic license plate. "Not a chance."

"I thought you might say that."

"Your father? What would he be doing here?"

"Well, I am not sure... but now that I think about it... I am supposed to call home twice a week, and I think I might have accidently forgotten to call yesterday."

"You think he came all this way over one missed phone call?"

"Well..." Quatre admitted sheepishly. "I might have forgotten to call on Tuesday too."

Trowa threw him a stern look. "You called last weekend?"

"I was planning to. But when I talked to Iria earlier this week I, I did ask her to tell Father that everything here was okay. Say, you think we could we pretend we don't live here and just turn around at the end of the road?"

"Quatre!!" his bodyguard admonished, and the young man sighed.

"Alright, alright. It's too late anyway."

Sure enough, the limousine's driver door had opened and a man, slender with black hair and a complexion that identified him as being of middle eastern decent, climbed out of the car. He was sporting a pair of fashionable dark glasses and a black suit.

Waiting until the Mercedes had pulled into the driveway he slowly stepped closer.

"Auda!" Quatre jumped out of the car before it even came to a full stop. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, of course, Master Quatre. How have you been?"

"You didn't come alone, I assume?" The young man strained his eyes trying to look through the limousine's dark, tinted windows.

"Of course not. I've brought your sisters."

Quatre's eyes went wide. "All of them? You know you could have at least called and warned me, given me some time to prepare...leave town....move out of the country....""

Audo laughed. "Relax Master Quatre, I only brought Izza, Tayri, Menna and Damya."

"Where are they?" Quatre wanted to know. He figured that if they were in the car they would have swarmed him by now.

"Shopping. I dropped them off at the local mall on the way from the airport before I came here to wait for you."

"You left them alone...at the mall?" The idea of four of his unmarried sisters at the shopping center amongst hundreds of male college students was enough to wake his brotherly instincts of protectiveness.

"Of course not. Abdul and Ahmed are with them. Someone has to carry those shopping bags, right?"

A smirk crossed Quatre's face. With Ahmed and Abdul at their side he could be sure that his sisters were safe in every sense of the word. "I suppose so."

Meanwhile Trowa had pulled the Mercedes into the garage, parked it and climbed out of the car. He greeted the older man with a nod as he walked over to where he and Quatre were standing.

"Auda!"

They had met before, back at the Winner house, when the elder Winner was interviewing Trowa. Auda was one of two dozen or so bodyguards permanently assigned to provide security for the politician and his family. From what Trowa knew they all came from the same tribe and were specially selected and trained for their job.

"Maybe we should go inside." Trowa suggested.

A large limousine, especially one with diplomatic license plates was bound to attract attention even in a neighborhood like this. A couple kids were already eyeing the car curiously from across the street. It wasn't like he expected anything to happen around here, but the bodyguard in him could never be fully at ease when a crowd gathered near one of his charges.

"Yes, of course." Quatre nodded, then turned to Auda. "You don't have to leave right away, do you?"

"Your sisters will call when they are ready for me to pick them up. - But I do have some packages in the trunk, gifts for you, Master Quatre."

The young man huffed. "When will they realize that we do have stores here in town and I don't need their care packages every week."

"Yes, but do those stores sell fresh Almond Ghoriba or Chebakia? Tayri has become quite the cook and she masters your late mother's recipes almost perfectly. In any case, I'd better unload. We will need room for those shopping bags later."

"Are you sure you've brought a large enough car?" Quatre chuckled.

"Yes, I wonder." Auda managed to keep his voice thoughtful, even as a tiny smirk played around his lips.

"Trowa, will you help Auda. I'll go make us some tea to have with those sweets."

As Quatre headed into the house Auda gave Trowa a surprised look. "Master Quatre makes tea?"

"Coffee too, and he washes dishes..."the young man confirmed.

"By Allah, wonders never cease to exist."

Almost at the door Quatre threw a look back over his shoulder and huffed. "I could hear that."

#

"...so everything went well until the ride was over and they started to let people out. Unfortunately we ended up on the very top of the Ferris wheel when they stopped it, and instantly Young Master Quatre started to scream 'Let me out, let me out now, I want to go now...'"

"I was only 5 years old alright, and that gondola was swaying like crazy." Quatre pouted.

"Only because you were jumping up and down like a mountain goat on a caffeine rush*." Auda chuckled. "Anyway, the operator hurried up to get us down as quick as possible. The moment his little feet touched the ground, Master Quatre looked up at me the biggest smile on his face and said: 'That was fun, let's do it again.'".

"That sounds very much like him." Trowa laughed out loud, but Quatre seemed less amused and simply huffed. "By the way, has he always been as willful as he is today?"

"Does Earth revolve around the sun?" The older man smirked. "One of Young Master Quatre's habits was to run off on his own... in the mall, at the zoo. He knew he wasn't supposed to, and one of us would usually hold his hand. But he would just turn around, kick you in the shin and dash off before you were able to catch your breath."

"Seriously?"

"I still have some marks to show for it."

Trowa chuckled as he reached over the table for another cookie. "I am glad he outgrew that habit, although he **still** likes to run off on his own."

"Alright, that's enough."Quatre glared at Auda in playful exasperation. "You tell one more of my embarrassing childhood tales and I'm going to call Rashid. I am sure he knows a story or two about you growing up."

"I was a perfect child," Auda insisted in his most innocent voice.

"Yes right, and I was born yesterday." The blond huffed in amusement before turning toward Trowa. "Would you mind making us some more tea?"

"No problem."

Waiting until his bodyguard had left the room Quatre looked at the older man. "Auda, can you do me a favor and tell Rashid to call me. I have something I need him to do for me, and it is very important."

"Of course. Is everything alright, Master Quatre?"

"Yes, everything is fine, nothing to worry about, Auda," he assured him with a smile.

####

He was only a couple of blocks away from his house when he noticed the young man walking down the street. Treize Khushrenada slowed down, tapping the car horn twice as he rolled down the passenger window. "Hello there, Wufei. Need a ride?"

"Oh hi." the Chinese youth returned the greeting. "I'm actually on the way to see your guys. I called Milliardo just a moment ago."

"Well then by all means, hop in."

Treize waited for Wufei to fasten his seatbelt before he moved back into the traffic lane. "So, how did the move go?"

"Pretty smooth. Heero helped and it wasn't really much we had to move, mostly personal things just a few little pieces of furniture."

The older man nodded. "Well I'm glad everything worked out for you and Duo."

"Yeah me too."

There was a moment of silence until they pulled up in front of the house.

"I'll park right here for the moment. I'll drive you home later."

"Thanks," Wufei nodded. "I'd appreciate that."

Treize knocked and the door opened almost immediately. "Thanks Alexander. Milliardo I'm home."

"Welcome back," Milliardo's voice came through the kitchen. "Wufei will be coming over soon. He has some more photos from China, he said."

"Actually he is here already. I picked him up on the street."

"Picked me up on the street...." Wufei snorted. "What am I some kind of lost puppy dog?"

"Sorry, I suppose that didn't sound right, did it?" Treize laughed. "You have more photos? I can't wait to see them. Let's go join Milliardo, he is probably sitting in the garden."

"I almost forgot that I filled a few rolls with my old Canon," Wufei explained as he followed the professor. "I only use that camera for black and white photos these days. I found one of the rolls when I started to unpack so I went to school to develop it."

"Oh right," Treize nodded. "You are the head of the photography club, aren't you?"

The young man nodded.

Milliardo was laying on a chaise lounge on the patio enjoying the afternoon sun. Although it was the first of September, the weather was still warm but not too hot, almost too nice to have to go back to school.

"Is this how you what you are doing these days?" Wufei asked.

"Jealous?" the older youth grinned.

With a huff Wufei settled down in one of the white wicker chairs. Rummaging through his backpack for a few moments he finally pulled out an picture filled envelope and handed it to Treize.

The professor remove the photos one by one. They were large 8x11 prints, all in black and white which gave them a somewhat nostalgic look.

"These are great. Look at these details and crispness. Honestly I like those almost better than the color ones we saw before."

"That's because you are old fashioned." Milliardo teased.

"Maybe I am, sue me." Treize looked at Wufei. "Mind if I take those to a photo lab to have another copy made?"

"These are yours if you want them," the young man replied. "I thought you might, so I printed two of each."

"Thanks a lot."

"No problem at all. There should be another roll or two. I'll probably find them when I'm done unpacking my things. One of them I has pictured of my family, though. Remember I mentioned that one of the reasons I went to China was to do some on location research on the Long Clan."

"Ah yes," the professor confirmed. "You know I never realized you were a member of the Long Clan until you mentioned it."

"Long Clan?" Milliardo echoed.

"They are very powerful noble family whose roots can be traced back as far as into the Tang Dynasty." Treize explained. Of course, he would know this kind of thing.

"Wow, so you are something like Chinese royalty?"

Wufei laughed. "Hardly. Maybe a handful of distant ancestors were related to the royal bloodline, but that was hundreds of years ago. Treize is right, we used to be quite powerful, but the operative word is 'used' . You know I never cared much for family history and stuff like that."

"Then why did you go to China to research?" the professor asked. "What changed?"

The young man shrugged. "Meeting Alexander and you and Milliardo, I guess. I learned so much about your families and your history... it made me realize that our ancestors are not just names on a family tree. There are faces and stories about their lives that come with them. It started to make me curious about my own roots."

"I see." Treize smiled softly.

"I probably should figure out what to make for dinner," Milliardo stretched leisurely and sat up. "You are going to stay, Wufei, won't you?"

"No, thanks. I really should go home. I still have stuff to do."

The blond shrugged. "Suit yourself." As he rose to his feet, a small book slipped from the site of the chaise lounge and would have fallen to the floor if not for Wufei's quick reaction.

"Octavian's diary?! You still have not finished reading it?"

"Yes and no. Actually, we have started adding to it." Milliardo explained. "We learned a lot from Octavian telling us about his live with Alexander. So we figured we should add our own experiences for whoever might read it in the future."

"Sounds like a great idea."

"I thought so too." Treize agreed.

####

"They are back!" Quatre announced at the sound of a car horn blowing in through the open window. After Auda had left, he and Trowa had cleaned the dishes and tidied up the house.

Putting on a wide smile the young man went to open the door and greet his sisters. It didn't take much effort, for for all his grumbling and complaining he did love his family.

"Ah look at him, doesn't he look all grown up?"

"Actually he looks like he's lost some weight. Are you taking the time to eat properly, little brother?"

"He looks fine to me. Come here, Quatre!"

After several minutes of hugging and squeezing Quatre finally freed himself, his ears glowing red in embarrassment. "Can we at least take this inside?" he asked.

"Awww, he is afraid the neighbors will see us. Isn't he too cute?" Damya ruffled his golden-blond hair as they followed him inside.

"Trowa please meet my sisters, Izza, Menna, Tayri and Damya,." he introduced them.

Trowa nodded. "Nice to see you again."

"You met before?" Quatre frowned slightly.

"Of course," Izza, the oldest of the four, confirmed. "You didn't think we would let Father choose a bodyguard for you without at least meeting him, did you?"

"I guess not," her brother admitted. "So, why are you here anyway?"

"Because we missed you."

"I've been gone for less than two weeks."

"Exactely. It's the longest you have ever been away from home, little brother. At Hargrave you came home every weekend. Iria said you called here earlier this week; we figured you probably felt homesick."

"Let me get that straight. I did not call her because I felt homesick but because I had a question."

Tayri shook her head with a theatrical sigh. She was the youngest of his sisters, only 18 months older than Quatre, which didn't stop her from treating him like her little baby brother. "He can be so difficult, wouldn't you agree Trowa?"

"No doubt about that." the bodyguard agreed.

"Hey," Quatre protested. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"I didn't realize I am supposed to pick sides," Trowa replied straight-faced earning himself a huff.

Turning back toward his sisters Quatre asked. "How long are you going to stay? Should I get the guest rooms ready?"

"No, no we will be leaving later tonight, after a nice dinner together. We saw this Italian restaurant near the airport we thought we should go to. Trowa, you will join is, won't you?"

"Actually considering that three bodyguards should be more than enough I'd like to take the opportunity and take the evening off. If that's alright?"

"Of course it's alright." Quatre nodded. "Well then, it's still a little early for dinner. And I assume you want to fresh up before we go. Let me should you bathrooms."

####

"Those moves are quite impressive."

Wufei's head snapped around. He had been practicing his routines on the lawn in the backyard, never even realizing that he was being watched. The sun had begun to set in and in dusk's twilight he made out a young man on the other side of the wall that separated the properties. How long had he been watching?

"It's Chang Wufei, isn't it?" The fact that he used his last name first indicated that he was at least somewhat familiar with Asian culture. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you?"

"Maybe you shouldn't sneak up on people then?"

"Sorry," the young man repeated. "By the way my name is Trowa Barton. I have only been watching for a few minutes. Do you always train on your own? But I guess it might be difficult to find a sparring partner up to you level of skill. Would you like to try me?"

"You do karate?" Wufei was more than just a little surprised.

"Not exactly," Trowa admitted. "What they taught us is a mix is different styles, meant for survival more than anything else."

"Right, I've heard you are a bodyguard."

"So, are you up for the challenge? I haven't had a change to practice in a long time."

The Chinese young man hesitated, then asked: "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"A simple fight; no rules, no holding back, first one on the ground looses." Trowa looked at the other youth questioningly.

After a brief moment of consideration Wufei nodded. "I accept." It seemed like an odd idea, but in some strange way also very exciting.

Trowa jumped the wall without effort. He slipped off the leather jacket he was always wearing to conceal his weapon, then the shoulder holster, and discarded them on the paved walkway. If the sight of the gun surprised Wufei, he didn't show any indication.

His face betrayed no emotion as he waited for his sparring partner to get ready. Finally the two young men faced one another and bowed.

"May the best fighter win."

##

"I'm sorry, I should have been able to pull that punch."

Trowa gave a short laugh that sounded more embarrassed than anything as he pressed a icepack against his swollen cheekbone. "It's not your fault, I allowed myself to get distracted for a moment."

The two young men were sitting in the kitchen of Heero's house, after their fight ended sudden and cut short.

"You are even better than I had thought. How long have you been training?"

"For as long as I can remember. More coffee?" Wufei asked, holding up the half filled glass carafe.

"No, another cup and I will be up all night." Putting down the icepack, Trowa gingerly prodded the swelling and winced. "Feels like it's starting to go down already. With a little luck by Monday it will be hardly noticeable."

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It's not the first time I got slugged and it probably won't be the last."

"I'm curious. How does someone your age become a bodyguard, anyway? Besides, the word Bodyguard makes me think of stone-faced guys in black suits who are constantly talking into earwigs."

Trowa grinned. "That would make me stand out like a sore thumb at Marymount, wouldn't it? The company I work for provides security in the private sector. We get our assignments depending on the situation, and having to enroll into college takes a younger person, I guess. Usually we are hired for a day, a week, a month..., for a business trip or for a certain event like a party or concert. We are taught to dress for the occasion."

"So in other words, the Men in Black look is reserved for Hollywood?" Wufei's voice was laced with humor. There was a moment of thoughtful silence before he added."I can imagine, having to be so close to the person you are protecting creates some kind of bond, doesn't it?"

"I try to avoid it," the other youth admitted. "It could complicate things."

"Ah yes, I saw the movie."

Trowa laughed at the tongue-in cheek remark. "I think I like you." He finished the rest of his coffee in a long sip, put the cup down on the table and rose to his feet. " But it's getting late. I should be leaving."

"Well, if you ever ready for another beating, you know where I live."

"A little overly confident, aren't we?" The brunette snorted. "I led my guard down once; I won't make the same mistake again."

"We'll see about that." Wufei replied calmly.

##

By the time Trowa got home, Quatre was already back, sitting in the living room watching some kind of movie.

"Welcome back."

"Thanks, your sisters are gone already?"

"Yes. They dropped me off at home after dinner and left. Apparently Father needs the jet tomorrow morning, and the pilot was concerned about some incoming weather systems on their flight route."

"Why didn't you call me, I would have come home earlier." The bodyguard asked as he slipped off his shoes and walked into the living room.

"There was no need. I just..." Quatre looked up, his eyes widened instantly. "Oh no, what happened to you?"

"Nothing. It's no big deal?" Trowa replied evasively, but Quatre had already jumped to his feet.

"I wouldn't call a big black shiner nothing."

"It's not a shiner."

"Did you get into a fight? Where were you, anyway?"

"Next door. I was helping to move some boxes, tripped and hit my face on the box corner_." Yes, that sounds plausible, I'll stick with that. _

Quatre gave him a sharp gaze, his face clearly indicating that didn't believe his friend's story. "You are supposed to be the one keeping **me** safe. But here I leave you alone for 3 hours and you come back a total mess. Is that blood on your shirt, too?"

"Just a little nosebleed." Trowa was trying to make his way into the kitchen to grab an icepack but Quatre reached for his arm and pulled him toward an armchair.

"Sit down and wait here." he ordered.

With a sigh the bodyguard complied while the other youth dashed out of the room, to return a few moments later not only with ice but also a small jar of some kind of ointment.

"Hold still," Quatre demanded as he knelt down in front of the chair and opened the jar. "This might feel cold for a while, but it will bring the swelling down quickly."

"What is it?"

"I really don't know. And I am not sure I want to. It's some kind of old home remedy Rashid gave me. As a kid I got hurt all the time, climbing trees, falling of my horse... Rashid usually patched me up afterward." Quatre explained as he spread a generous amount of the salve onto Trowa's injury.

The young man pressed his teeth together trying not to wince. The ointment did feel cold but Quatre's hands were very gentle.

_"I can imagine, having to be so close to the person you are protecting creates some kind of bond, doesn't it?" "I try to avoid it..."_

_But sometimes, _the young man thought. _That's easier said than done._

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note: * (Another useless fact) Auda is referring to coffee berries eating goats of Ethopia. The story of how coffee was discovered is that of Kaldi a goat herder who watched his animals eat the red berries from a certain tree in the hills and become very energetic and hyper afterwards. When he tasted the berries himself he found out why.

I thought you might be interested to know that I am planning on writing at least two more stories in this arc. In the third story, 'The Junkyard', Heero comes across an old car that seems to trigger some memories in him, of a childhood he never could remember before. Together, he and Duo follow the leads to uncover his past.  
The fourth story 'The Good Luck Charm' will be about Wufei. It reveals a possible connections between Alexander and the Long clan, which come to light when Wufei shows his friends some photographs he took in China while visiting his relatives.

'The Good Luck Charm' will be set directly after 'The Well' while 'The Junkyard' will actually run parallel to 'The Well' starting with Chapter 10.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 10**

"How about over there?" Quatre gestured at a large table in the back of the cafeteria, and Trowa nodded.

"Why not?"

Balancing their food trays, the two of them headed toward the table in question. The first three days at their new school had gone by in a flash. Quatre could hardly believe it was Thursday already. Like Duo had said, they were taking some of the same courses as he, but they also were in the same physics class as Wufei Chang and Heero Yuy, the guy next door who Quatre never really met until school started.

The five young men had hit it off right away. They had started hanging out at lunch and after classes, even carpooling together when their schedules allowed it. Being let out of design class early by Professor Powell, they were the first ones at the lunch room today.

"Leia emailed me back this morning," Trowa announced as they settled down. "Apparently she was out of town and didn't check her email in a few days. But she gave me her cell phone number and told me to call her if I got any news about her brother."

"Did she confirm that Mike Chapman was the guy Trowa supposedly went to Canada with?" Quatre wanted to know. By now he was pretty sure that was the case, but he still wanted verification.

"Yes, that's what she said."

"Hmm...Could you do me a favor? When you call her, could you ask if something happened around the time when Trowa and Mike were in high school?"

"Something happened...?" the other youth echoed.

"Yes, did they do something that got them into trouble? And I am not talking about stealing candy at the local convenient store."

"What makes you think that?" Trowa took a sip from his orange juice as he looked at his friend questioningly.

Quatre shrugged. "I had a couple more short dreams that made me wonder..."

"Oh?!"

"Yeah, in one of them Mike had a talk with his music teacher...."

_"Mister Chapman, please wait for a moment. I need to talk to you." Professor Diciasetto stopped him as he was about to leave the room with his fellow classmates._

_"If this is about my paper, I thought I had till Wednesday to turn it in."_

_"It's not about that." the professor shook his head. "What I'd like to talk to you about is a little more...personal."_

_He frowned slightly but didn't say anything. Diciasetto waited until the classroom has emptied before he continued._

_"Michael, as I told you on more than one occasion, you are a very talented young man. Maybe one of the most talented ones I have ever taught. But I am concerned."_

_"About what"_

_"About the people you are keeping company with."_

_"What?"_

_"I know what happened when you were 14, why you parents sent you to Europe to school. They did the right thing, separating you from your old friends and their bad influence. Mister Barton was one of those "bad influences' from your childhood, wasn't he? If you are smart you will stay away from him and others like him."_

_"You don't even know him, so how can you say something like that? What makes you think that he had anything to do with what I did back then? Besides, how did you get all of this information? My Juvi file is supposed to be sealed."_

_"Well, let's just say I know some people in the right places."_

_"Apparently, you are not the only one," he mumbled. _

_"I beg your pardon?"_

_"Never mind. With all due respect my past should not be of any concern for you, or anybody else for that matter. I'll have my mid-term paper ready by Wednesday, and unless there is anything else regarding the music program, I'd like to go now. I don't want to be late for my next class."_

_"Very well, you may leave. But believe me, I'm only trying to help you."_

_"Right. Good bye, Professor"_

"Hmm.... that really does sound strange. But what did he mean by 'Apparently you are not the only one?' Sounds to me like someone else already confronted him about his past."

"Yes, and I think it might have something to do with my other dream."

_"Hey you! You in the varsity jacket..."_

_A tall, broad shouldered young man with short cropped black hair turned his head to see who was calling after him._

_"You're talking to me?"_

_"Yeah," Trowa Barton and his friend stepped closer. "You are the captain of the football team, aren't you?"_

_"So what?"_

_"There are tryouts this week, aren't there?"_

_"Tomorrow afternoon," the football player confirmed as he looked Trowa up and down. "You are planning to try out?"_

_"Yeah, we both are."_

_Nearby two older students snorted. _

_Trowa turned his head slowly. "You got a problem with that?"_

_"Yes," one of them, blond, with pale thin lips, confirmed. "If you ask me Freshmen should not be allowed to try out. "_

_"Good thing nobody asked you," Mike replied. "Are you afraid a freshman might be better than you?"_

_"No, but putting Freshmen on the team will fill up spots that should be given to Junior and Senior players." _

_"Well... if you can't make it onto the team you can always join the cheerleaders, I hear they have some openings."_

_"You!" The older youth pressed through his teeth, his eyes sparking furiously. "Who asked you anyway? Do you even know how to play football? I mean AMERICAN football not the sissy stuff they play over in Europe."_

_"Maybe he learned to play football while he was in jail." his dark-haired companion threw in. _

_Mike glared at him, dropping his backpack as he clenched his fists._

_"Oops, was that supposed to be a secret?"_

_"Really," his friend added, his voice laced with distaste. "Why they let someone with a criminal record enter this school, I have no idea."_

_"At least I can say I got in on my own talent and grades and not with the help of my father's bank account." Mike shot back while Trowa took a step forward._

_"Call my friend a criminal again and you will be slurping dinner through a straw for the next weeks." he warned._

_"Let's see about that!"_

_The air was thick with tension and hostility and the four young men seemed more than ready to exchange blows if not for another student stepping between them at the last moment._

_The slender young man with shoulder-long platinum blond hair had been watching the argument for a while from a distance._

_"Cool it, alright." he told the two older students. "If you have a problem with one another try to talk it out. If you feel like fighting join the judo club."_

_"Get out of the way, Peacecraft. This is none of your business?"_

_"That's where you are wrong, Mueller. As the head of the student council you make it my business when you start a fight on school grounds. If I remember correctly you are already on probation."_

_The young man he had called Mueller huffed. Pushing the platinum blonde aside he walked away without another word, followed by his companion._

_For a moment it looked like Trowa was going to go after them, but before he could move Mike grabbed his arm. "Let them be, they are not worth the trouble."_

_"Smart choice." The platinum blonde bent down to pick up Mike's backpack when a folded up piece of paper, something like a flyer or pamphlet, slipped from the pocket of the parker he was wearing. He tried to pick it up quickly, but Trowa beat him to it. _

_He had barely time to unfold it before the older student ripped the paper from his hand. "Give me that!" _

_Stuffing the flyer back into his pocket he glared at them silently got a moment. As he turned and walked away Trowa and Mike exchanged a long gaze...._

"...instructions on how to make explosives?" the bodyguard asked in disbelief as Quatre finished his story. "Are you sure?"

Quatre nodded. "I only saw that paper for a brief moment but I know what was on it."

"That's... wow."

"I know. I did some research yesterday. At the time anti-war protests had become bigger and lauder, but the military was still recruiting young men especially college kids. In fact, recruitment offices were set up right on campus. Only a few months before Trowa and his friend disappeared a couple of recruiting centers had been bombed."

"You think that maybe the two of saw something they shouldn't have seen, that day?"

"I don't know." Quatre admitted.

The two young men spent a long time in thoughtful silence while they ate their lunch.

#

"What's with the dark faces?"

Trowa looked up. "Professor Khushrenada."

"Hello Professor."

"Hello. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." Quatre moved his backpack to clear the chair next to him. He knew that Milliardo had told the professor about his 'meeting' with Alexander, even though Treize had never talked about it to him. "How are you?"

"Ready to go home." Treize laughed. "How about you guys, settling in nicely?"

"Yes, thanks for asking. Any news regarding openings in your history class?"

"Well, I didn't want to tell you until it was final, but I put talked to Headmaster Stiller about the possibility of creating another class, due to the unusual long waiting list. There are still some schedule problems to be worked out but if this should go through you will be the first to know."

"Thank you, but won't that mean you will have to spend even more time in school?"

"Actually it would only be two extra classes per week, time I would usually sit in my office anyway. So, don't worry about it."

Quatre nodded. "In any case, it is very much appreciated.

"Anyway..." the professor started to unpack his lunch. "Milliardo asked me to remind you that he will be going to the new house Saturday morning. From what I gathered the two of you will meet him there?"

"Yes, that's what we had planned."

"You intending to go into the 'real estate business' as well?" Treize wanted to know.

"No...no, nothing like that. I just wanted to take a second look at the place. It seems that Trowa and I know someone who went to school here and might have lived in that house during the early seventies."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, um... Professor, I was wondering... Do you by any chance know if Milliardo's father went to school here, too? Or maybe his uncle?"

"I don't think Milliardo has an uncle, but I am quite sure his father went to Marymount. In fact the Peacecraft family is associated with this school since the days of its founding, it would be very unlikely that any of them would go to college anywhere else."

"Ah yes, family traditions."

"Why do you ask?"

"Ah nothing important, I just thought that I had seen the name Peacecraft in a yearbook from 1972." It wasn't a lie. After his visions he had looked at the yearbook to check on the people he had dreamed about.

"I see. By the way, I also have something I wanted to talk to you two about while we are alone."

"Oh?!" Quatre gave the professor a surprised look.

"Yes, it's about Wufei. We are planning a little Birthday party for him next week. Nothing big, just lunch at a Chinese restaurant and then we will spend the rest of the afternoon at our house. We would like you to be there too."

Trowa exchanged a look with his friend. "Sounds like fun."

"Doesn't it?" Quatre agreed. "Who else is coming?"

"Just Milliardo, Duo and myself. Heero said he would try but he isn't sure if he can swap shifts and might have to work. He might come later in the evening, though."

"What do we need to do or bring"?

"Just your appetite." Treize replied. "Oh yeah, this is supposed to be a surprise, so keep it quiet when Wufei is around."

"Understood. But how will you get him to the restaurant without him knowing about it?"

"Yeah, we were thinking about that too. Duo suggested we just kidnap him and stuff him in the trunk of a car..." the professor's eyes sparkled with mirth. "But I think we probably should come up with some kind of excuse to get him there, instead."

"I agree." Quatre laughed. "Would kind of put a damper on the whole thing if the birthday boy starts his party with a heart attack."

"There they come now." Trowa, who was facing the door, announced. "We'd probably change the subject."

####

"Do I smell popcorn?"

Quatre was wearing only a pair of soft, gray sweatpants, his hair still damp from the shower he had just taken, when he came back downstairs.

"I left a bowl full for you on the counter." Trowa tilted his head as his gaze followed the young man all the way into the kitchen.

"Thanks."

"Wanna watch a movie?"

"You already finished with homework?"

"Yeah, you aren't?"

"No, I still have to finished the drawing for design class." Quatre sighed as he stepped back into the living room armed with his bowl of popcorn. "I'd better work on that now; don't want have to get up early in the morning to finish it."

"Have fun."

The blonde huffed as he reached into his bowl and popped a handful of the lightly salted morsels into his mouth. He was about half way up the stairs when the house phone started to ring."

"I got it." Trowa told him, already reaching for the receiver.

"Thanks." the other youth mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn.

"Hello?" After listening for a few moments Trowa looked up to his companion. "It's for you. Your father's chief of security."

"Ah, thanks. I'll take it up here." Taking two steps at once Quatre hurried up the stairs and grabbed the phone in the hall. "Rashid?! It's Quatre."

"Master Quatre, how have you been? Auda told me you wanted to talk to me. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything is fine, thanks." the young man walked into his bedroom, closing the door behind himself. "I just wanted to ask you a favor."

"Oh?!"

"I'm hoping you might be able to find someone for me."

"Find someone?"

"Yes, a girl, or better a young woman by now. The name is Catherine Bloom. It might not be easy, though. I know that she was in a car accident about 12 or 13 years, was taken to a hospital and then via air ambulance to another clinic. I need you to pick up her trail from there. I'm emailing you all the details that I have right now."

"May I ask who this woman is?"

"Yes, it's Trowa's sister. He hasn't seen her since, and isn't even sure if she is still alive. I'm sure if anyone would be able to find her, it will be you Rashid."

"You do not have to flatter me, Master Quatre, I'm more than happy to help."

"Thanks, but please don't mention anything to Trowa for now. I'd not want to get his hope up before we know anything specific."

"Of course," Rashid agreed.

"Thanks again, Rashid. I really appreciate it."

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Master Quatre?"

"Nothing that I can think of. Aside from saying hello to my Father. I'll call him after school tomorrow."

"I'll let him know."

"Good night, Rashid."

"Good night, young master."

####

"Maxwell...Hey Maxwell, are you home?"

A third bang at his door finally got Duo's attention, and he pulled off his headphones. "Come in!"

The young man was lying belly down on his bed, flipping through the newest issue of a pop magazine when his new 'landlord' entered.

Letting his gaze wander over a array of moving boxes and bags Heero frowned slightly. It had been almost a week now since his fellow schoolmates had moved in, but by the look of the room it might as well have been two hours ago. "Are you ever planning on unpacking those, or do you just prefer to live out of boxes? If so we could just move the furniture out of your way."

Duo couldn't quite tell if the other youth was being sarcastic or actually serious, so he settled for a sheepish smile and scratched his head. "Sorry, I haven't gotten around to it yet. Did Wufei send you to chew me out about it?"

"No, I came to tell you, your car is in the way."

"In whose way?" the braided young man asked surprised. "I made sure not to put it in the driveway."

"Exactly. Tomorrow is Friday, street sweeping day, unless you want to find a ticket on your windshield when you wake up, you'd better move it."

Duo sighed as he rolled off the bed. "Alright, where should I put it?"

Heero seemed a little surprised by the question. "In the garage of course."

"I thought that's where you keep your cars." Duo knew his friend owned a silver Corvette as well as a impressive looking Jeep 4x4; he had seen him drive both. "There will be still room for another truck?"

"Oh, yes. There is plenty of room, don't worry. Let me show you," Heero gestured for the other youth to follow him. "I have a spare garage door remote for you too, somewhere."

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 11**

Checking his watch quickly as he pulled out his phone, Trowa dropped down into one of the chairs in the living room. If his math was right it was shortly before 6 pm in Germany, probably a good time to catch Leia at home. He dialed the number she had sent him and waited for her to pick up. From upstairs he could hear the slight sound of rushing water and Quatre whistling in the shower.

"Hallo?"

"Hello Leia, it's Triton."

There was a brief moment of silence on the line. "How are you?"

"I'm good. How about you?"

"Me too. I assume you call because you have some news... about Trowa?"

"No news I'm afraid. But I have a question I hope you might be able to answer."

"A question?"

In the background Trowa could hear a noise and then a little girl's voice calling for her mom.

Leia sighed. "Hang on, Marie spilled her milk."

"Do you want me to call back at a more convenient time?"

"No, no, this is fine. Let me just clean this up very quick."

"How old is she now?" Trowa asked. He only had met Leia's daughter once, at her grandfather's 75th birthday party.

"Almost 4. Marie say hello to Uncle Triton."

"Hello, Uncle Triton." the little voice called out, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, back to your question."

"Yes, I was wondering if you know... did Trowa get into trouble with the law when he was a teenager?"

Another moment of silence as Leia hesitated. "I take it Mom and Dad didn't tell you. Maybe it's something they don't want to..."

"Leia, please. The only reason I am asking is because it might help us to find out what happened to Trowa and why."

"I don't see how something that happened when he was 14 could have anything to do with his disappearance. But alright... From what I have been told Trowa and three friends he always was hanging out with took Mike's father's car while his parents were out of town, and went on a joyride. I don't think it was the first time, but this time something went wrong. Mike was the one driving when he lost control of the car and flipped. One of his friends was killed in the crash. Trowa and John got probation, but Mike was charged with manslaughter and spent a few of months in a juvenile facility. When he got out his parents send him off to a boarding school."

"A few months for manslaughter?"

"Mike was only 13; he was the youngest of the bunch I believe. If he would have been 14 like the others they might have charged him differently."

"Yeah, I suppose so. Thanks a lot. I'll let you get back to what you were doing."

"...Triton!"

"Yes?"

"Call if you find out anything new."

"I will," he promised. A few moments later they ended their call and Trowa hung up.

"Was that Leia?" Quatre was just coming down the stairs, the faint smell of shampoo, soap and minty toothpaste surrounding him like a fragrant cloud.

"Yes," his friend confirmed. "And you were right." He quickly relayed what Leia had told him to the other youth.

Quatre listened thoughtfully. "Maybe Trowa felt responsible because he didn't do anything to stop his friend. That would explain why he was so protective of him when they met again."

"Or maybe..." Trowa replied. "...he felt responsible because he was."

"What do you mean?"

"What if Mike was not really the one driving?"

"You think Trowa...? And Mike lied because he knew he would get the lowest sentence because of his age? I suppose it could be possible."

"We probably will never know for sure. I don't think it matters, either. It was just a thought."

"Yeah. You'd better hurry and jump in the shower. Milliardo will be waiting for us at the real estate office at 10:30."

###

"Sorry we are late." Milliardo was standing outside the realtor's office building when Quatre and Trowa finally got there. "There was a street closure on Main, we had to drive all the way around."

"Don't worry about it," the young man made a dismissive gesture. "I've only been waiting for a few minutes. Shall we go then?"

"Do you want us to follow you or should we just take one car?" Quatre asked.

"Actually, I thought we could walk. It's only a mile and a half or so if we cut through the park, and that way we wouldn't have to worry about the detours."

"Sounds good." Quatre looked at his bodyguard, who didn't seem to have any objections either.

"Mister Winner.... Mister Winner...." They were just about to leave when the Realtor caught up with them. "I was just about to call you when Mister Peacecraft told me he was going to meet you here." the woman explained. "I made those inquiries you asked for, and you were absolutely correct, # 46 Manor Terrace was rented out to a Trowa Barton in the Fall of 1971, the rental agreement also included a Mister Mike Chapman, both of them were students at the Marymount college at the time."

"Thank you so much, Missis Rama. That really helped me a lot." Quatre gave the woman a friendly nod. Her re-search only confirmed what he had already expected. It seemed like the pieces were slowly falling into place.

Milliardo gave his two companions a inquiring look as they finally headed down the street. "Trowa Barton?" he asked. "Senior, I assume. Was he your father? Is that why you are so interested in that property?"

"I'm afraid it is a little more complicated than that." Trowa replied, and Quatre added:

"Remember when you told me about Alexander, hanging on to the place where he was murdered and trying to give you clues about what happened to him? This is very similar. Those two young men, Trowa Barton and Mike Chapman disappeared in 1972 and one of them...I think it is Mike is trying to tell me why and how."

"You think it has something to do with that house?"

"That's where he first started to connect with me, and I don't think it's just because they used to live there."

"Hmm..." Crossing his arms, Milliardo raised his left hand and ran his thumb across his lips, slowly, thoughtfully. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

The three young men were entering Whitten Park now and had to split up when a group of bicyclists approached them on the narrow path.

"Maybe there is," Quatre replied after the group had passed. "Do you by any chance have the original property plans?"

"I do," the older youth confirmed. "But not with me. My father insisted on looking them over....Speaking of which..." Milliardo paused briefly then sighed. "Do you have any dinner plans for tomorrow?"

"Umm... no, not that I know of."

"Somehow my father learned that the son of Zayeed Winner enrolled in Marymount. Apparently he is a great admirer of your father's philosophy. Anyway, when he found out that we know one another he asked me to invite you for dinner. I promised I'd ask, but I wouldn't push you. So feel free to say no."

"No. I mean yes, I'd like to meet your father."

"Really?"

"Yes." Quatre laughed. "So what are we talking about... formal black tie?"

"Oh no, nothing like that, just a little family gathering, my parents, my sister, Treize and I. "

"I'll be looking forward to it."

"Great, but please don't tell my father how quick you gave in. I intend to milk this for what it is worth." Milliardo grinned.

Quatre shook his head, laughing. " Milliardo," he said, turning serious again, "Could I ask you a question about your father?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Would you happen to know if he was... involved in the anti war movement while he was in college?"

"In fact I do. He mentioned helping to organize some big walk-out and protest march at Marymount. He was trying to impress a girl he had his eyes on."

"And, did it work?" Trowa asked, a tiny smirk curving his lips. "Impressing the girl I mean."

Milliardo returned the grin. "Considering they have been married for more than 25 years my guess would be, yes."

"How about something a little more... radical or militant?" Quatre pressed on.

"My father?" The young man laughed. "The most extreme thing he probably ever did was burning his draft card, and that's something I applaud him for. But why are you asking?" he suddenly looked at the other youth suspiciously. "Is there something you are not telling me?"

Quatre hesitated.

"Quatre?!" Milliardo urged.

"Remember what I said about Mike giving me hints about what happened to him and his friend? Well most of those hints come in dreams or visions, and in one of those dreams I met your father. Hhe was carrying papers on him with the instructions on how to make a bomb."

"I don't believe it." The older youth shook his head resolutely. "There has to be some kind of explanation. I know my father, he is opposed to any kind of violence. He believes that violence will only create more violence, just like your father does."

"You are probably right." Quatre agreed. "But I had to ask."

"No problem."

As they finally reached Manor Terrace, # 46 was just about half way up the road. Milliardo pulled out the key he had picked up at the Real Estate Office and opened the front door.

#

Trowa could feel Quatre tense the moment the door opened. For all his insistence, the young man seemed hesitant to enter the house, and he couldn't say that he blamed him.

Reaching out slowly he laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You don't have to do this, you know?"

Milliardo turned his head, looking back over his shoulder first at Trowa then Quatre. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Quatre nodded. "I'm fine, really," he assured his bodyguard. "I want to go inside."

"I still wish you wouldn't."

The young man smiled softly. "That's why you are going to be right by my side. And like I told you, if you at any time think something is wrong, you can grab me and drag me out of the house."

"Don't think I won't do it."

"I'm sure you will. Let's go, shall we?"

"Take your time looking around," Milliardo told them as the three of them finally stepped into the house. "My father wants me to take some pictures. So, if you need me I'll be upstairs doing just that."

Trowa nodded in acknowledgement. "Thanks."

"I want o go check the backyard first." Quatre remembered the way to the patio from his first visit. He unlocked and opened the glass sliding door.

"In my first vision," he explained, "I... no Mike was looking down from his bedroom upstairs; from there I think." He pointed at a window at the upper floor as he tried to remember the scene in his head. "There was some furniture here on the deck, an old couch and some chairs... Trowa was sitting down here with some friends... drinking beer... listening to music from one of those huge, old boom boxes...they were laughing... Mike was upstairs writing his music or something, and they were teasing him about it. But it was all in good fun." Closing his eyes to concentrate better, Quatre nodded to himself. _That's it. If I just concentrate on the on the happy things I can do this; I'll be able to keep this overwhelming feeling of sorrow and pain long enough. I'm not alone, _the young man reminded himself. _Trowa is right here by my side._

"I remember seeing the grass area; though it didn't look this nice and green back then. There was a little shack over there, maybe for tools or something. I have no idea but I know it was there.... But wait... this is new." Quatre gestured at a BBQ pit of some sort, solidly build onto a concrete foundation that was about 4 by 4 feet big. "I defiantly didn't see that here in my vision."

"What is it you are actually looking for?" Trowa wanted to know.

"I am not sure, really. The Realtor said the house never had a swimming pool. I was hoping that maybe there was a small pond or something and I would have seen it in my dream."

"So you are still sticking to your theory that whatever happened to Mike and Trowa had something to do with water?"

"Yes. That **I am** sure of. But I can for the heck of it not remember what was here before." Leaving the patio Quatre walked slowly toward the BBQ area. "But then, this doesn't look big enough for even a goldfish pond."

The moment he put foot onto the concrete floor it struck him like nothing he had ever felt before. Pain, fear and desperation washed over him like a cold, black cloud. Pictures flashed in front of his mind's eye too fast to identify them.

"Trowa!" For a moment he wasn't sure if he was the one calling out the name, or if it was Mike inside his head. But it was the last thing he remembered before his mind dipped into the darkness of oblivion, something he almost welcomed at that moment.

#

Quatre woke gradually. The first thing he noticed was a faint and familiar smell, musky and not too sweet, Trowa's aftershave. His eyelids fluttered then opened slowly, and he found himself looking into his friend's concerned face.

"Are you awake."

"I think so."

"You gave us a pretty good scare there, you know that?"

"I'm sorry." As his other senses returned Quatre realized he was laying in the front yard; with Trowa's jacket stuffed under his head, a second jacket covering his body. "Where is Milliardo?" he asked as he tried to sit up.

Trowa who was kneeling beside him laid his hand on the young man's chest, keeping him down. "He has gone to get his car. Don't move. Just try to take it easy for now. How do you feel?"

"Drained," Quatre admitted weakly. "Tired for some reason."

"Then try to rest, Milliardo won't be back for another ten or fifteen minute at least."

"Thanks." Closing his eyes he tried to remember what had happened just before he had passed out. "I'm sorry, Trowa."

"You said that already. Don't worry about it."

"No..." Quatre looked up into the other youth's face. "What I mean is, I'm sorry because I'm sure now that Trowa and Mike didn't disappear on their own account. I **know** something happened to them, and it most likely happened here at this house. But I am still not quite sure what."

"You are not going back in, if that's what you are getting at. I won't allow it."

Quatre smiled faintly. "Relax, I am not intending to, not after what just happened. At least not any time soon."

"What **did** happen?" Trowa wanted to know. He felt Quatre's hand next to his, and almost instinctively he covered it with his own, relieved when the young man didn't pull away. "Another vision?"

"No, this was different. More like... You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die? Only it wasn't my life I saw."

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc. and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 12**

"You are up already? How do you feel?"

Quatre was in the kitchen, making breakfast, when Trowa returned from his morning run.

"I couldn't sleep anymore," the young man replied as he slipped two slices of bread into the toaster. It wasn't really surprising, considering that he had fallen asleep on the couch right after dinner, the evening before. "You want some eggs?"

"Sure, do I have time to jump in the shower first?"

"If you make it a quick one."

"On second thought, maybe we should eat first. How can I help."

Quatre looked around. "I guess you could get the table ready."

"Alright." Trowa disappeared into the bathroom to wash his hands, returning a few moments later to start setting the table.

"You didn't answer my question earlier, about how you feel."

"I'm fine, really," the other youth insisted. "In fact I slept for the first night without any dreams. I suppose I was more exhausted than I had thought. Scrambled or over easy?"

"What?"

"You eggs."

"Oh, scrambled is fine." Trowa reached for the pepper and salt shaker in the cabinet above Quatre's head. "So, what about the dinner party tonight. Milliardo said not to push yourself, and call him if you don't feel up to it."

"No, I really think we should go."

"Quatre, if you are only doing this because you are hoping to find out more about Trowa and Mike..."

"I would be lying if I said that was never on my mind," the young man admitted. "But it is not the only reason. I think it would be fun. And not to mention, we will get a nice, home-cooked meal out of it. Face it, the two of us are not exactly master chefs. Your cooking is quite good, but mostly when it comes to quick and easy meals, and I... I haven't even learned to crack an egg open properly, yet."

"I think you are doing quite well..."

"Don't. I appreciate it, but do you think I really haven't noticed that you only eat your eggs scrambled when we are at home, because you know I have trouble keeping those darn yolks from breaking."

"Alright," Trowa laughed. "I have been found out. But I still think your cooking skills have greatly improved."

"Yeah," his friend chuckled. "At least I don't burn the toast anymore."

###

The shower was running, the door to the bathroom partially open, when Treize walked into the master bedroom. Through the slightly fogged-over glass of the shower door he could see his lover's flawless body. A almost predatory smile crossed his face as his eyes followed those long, muscular legs all the way up to where they ended in a pair of perfectly shaped, tight buttocks.

The professor started to undress, quickly but silently, discarding his garments onto the floor while he closed the distance to the bathroom.

In the shower, Milliardo was whistling quietly and slightly off tune, as he shampooed his long silvery tresses. A soft click alarmed him of the shower door being opened. He managed to turn, but by then it was already too late.

Pushing his lover against the tiled wall, Treize pinned him down with his own weight and dipped his head. His mouth covered Milliardo's in a passionate kiss, his tongue slipping between those willingly parting lips.

The young man moaned as one of the professor's hand slowly made his way between his legs, fondling his most sensitive parts softly.

Treize's lips moved over Milliardo's jaw, down his smooth neck, along his collar bone, placing a trail of soft butterfly kisses along the way.

"What are you doing? Can't I even take a shower without being molested?" the younger man protested half-heartedly, even though he did nothing to stop his lover's 'assault'.

"Is it my fault you are so damn hot?" Treize purred.

"Do I need to call for help?"

"If that's what turns you on."

Milliardo huffed. "I am not the one who is 'turned on'."

"No?!" The professor ran his thumb over the tip of his lover's cock, eliciting a shiver and a gasp from the young man.

"Treize! We really...shouldn't..." Milliardo's breath caught in his throat when a gentle fingertip ghosted over the velvety soft skin of his scrotum.

"Why not?" the older man inquired.

"We will be late for dinner at my parent's house."

Treize removed his finger, a frown narrowing his brows. "Dinner... at your parents, is that tonight?"

"Don't tell me you conveniently forgot."

"I did not forget, I simple might have confused the date," the professor insisted. "Couldn't we call in and let them know we will be late?"

"**That** would be rude, considering that I am the one who invited Quatre. I'm sure he expects us to be there when they arrive."

"I suppose so." Treize admitted, even as pressed his nude body against his lover's, slowly moving his hips as he did so.

"I guess... we still have a little time, fifteen...twenty minutes maybe," Milliardo finally conceded, not quite as reluctant as he pretended to be.

"I'd prefer to take my time with you and do this slowly very slowly ......, but I will take what I get," the older man purred into his ear, sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

###

"Misses Peacecraft, it's a pleasure to see you again." Treize smiled as he gallantly kissed her hand.

"The pleasure is mine? Are these for me?" she asked, gesturing at the large bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"Ah, yes of course."

"And this is for you, Dad." Milliardo handed his father a bottle of wine. "Treize pick it out for you."

"Romantee Conti?! Well, thank you Professor, you really shouldn't have. We will have to save it for a very special occasion."

"Which reminds me, Dad, can I show Treize your new wine cellar? We are thinking of having one build ourselves."

"Absolutely. While you are down there, why don't you grab a couple bottles we can open for after dinner tonight."

"Sure thing." Milliardo nodded. "We will go after Quatre and Trowa get here." The words had barely left his lips when the doorbell rang. "That must be them now."

#

The sound of the bell had barely faded when the door was opened. A middle aged man in a black suit nodded at Quatre with a polite smile.

"Mister Winner I assume?"

"Yes and this is my friend Trowa Barton."

"It's a pleasure. Please come in."

"Thanks Paigan." Milliardo walked out of a room on the left. "I'll take it from here. Hi there Quatre, Trowa. I'm glad you made it here without problem."

"It was easy enough to find." Trowa assured him. "But I am not quite sure where I should park the car. I have it right out front at the moment."

"Paigan, would you show him?"

"Absolutely. Please, if you would follow me?"

As the two of them left, Milliardo turned toward Quatre. "Come on, let me introduce you to my mom and dad."

Quatre followed the young man into the sitting room, where not only Milliardo's parents but also professor Khushrenada were waiting.

"Mom, Dad, this is Quatre Winner. - Quatre please meet my mother and my father. You already know Treize, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Misses Peacecraft, Mister Peacecraft." Quatre nodded at them politely. "It's very nice to meet you. Thank you so much for inviting us."

"Glad to have you here. Please have a seat, Mister Winner. Where is your friend?" Stephan Peacecraft wanted to know.

"Your butler is showing him where to park. But please call me Quatre." the young man replied as he settled down in one of the free chairs.

"Very well."

"I'm sure you have a lot to talk about, but you will have to excuse me." Milliardo's mother remarked. "If I don't get myself back into the kitchen now we won't have any dinner to eat."

"You need any help?" her son asked.

"Relena is helping me, we will be fine."

"So, since when have you been in town?" Stephan asked as his wife left the room.

"Almost 4 weeks now."

"And...do you like it?"

"Yes, it's beautiful. I like all the old buildings, the parks... even the weather here seems nicer than up north."

"How about school? Settled in nicely?"

"We did," Quatre confirmed. "I've heard you went to Marymount as well."

"Sure did. In fact our whole family for four generations now. Speaking of family... I've met your father once."

"Really?"

"Yes, I was lucky enough to attend a convention where he was a guest speaker."

"Come on, Dad, that had less to do with luck than it had with the size of the check your donated." Milliardo pointed out, earning himself a disapproving look from his father.

"What?! Everyone know those events are held to raise funds. I don't see anything wrong with that, only if people try to sugar coat things. Besides, it doesn't matter to me where you spend your money on."

"Milliardo, say, didn't you want to show Professor Khushrenada the wine cellar?"

"Hint taken." Milliardo rose to his feet. "Come on Treize, let me show you the wine cellar."

His father sighed as the two of them left the room. "I'm sorry about that. He is just trying to ruffle my feathers."

Quatre chuckled quietly. "I don't think it's anything personal. From what I have seen he likes to ruffle everyone's feathers, and in a way that's what I like about Milliardo. Not too many people really tell you what they think."

"I suppose that's true. Oh, by the way, can I get you something to drink?"

"No, no thanks, I'm fine for the moment. You were saying you met my father?"

"Yes in fall of 01."

"That must have been just before he was appointed to the UN council; he hasn't had much time for public appearances since."

"I can image. He must be very busy. He is quite an remarkable man; a very brave man."

"Yes, I know." The young man confirmed.

"Excuse us." Paigan interrupted politely as he showed Trowa into the sitting room.

Quatre rose to his feet to introduce them. "Mister Peacecraft, this is my friend Trowa Barton. Trowa, meet Milliardo's father."

"Nice to meet you."

"Same here." Stephan got up to shake hands with the young man then gestured at one of the empty chairs. "Please join us. Your name is Trowa Barton?!"

"You knew someone by the same name while you went to college, didn't you?"

The elder Peacecraft gave Quatre a surprised look before turning toward Trowa again. "In fact I did. Are you related in any way?"

"Not by blood." the young man explained as he took his seat. "The Barton family adopted me as a child."

"Is that so? In any case that's quite an coincidence. I haven't seen Trowa in...it's been 30 years now. How is he doing?"

"That's what his family would like to know as well."

Stephan blinked, apparently baffled, and Trowa proceeded to explain.

"He and a friend of his disappeared in 73 and no one has ever seen or heard from them ever since."

"Are you serious? I mean...I knew they were planning on going to Canada, but I assumed they would contact their families once they got there."

"That's the problem. We are now beginning to think that they never made it there."

"I'll be damned. I had no idea."

Quatre exchanged a long look with his friend. "Mister Peacecraft, if you don't mind me asking, but how well did you and Trowa know each other?"

"Well, we did not exactly hang out with the same crowd, if that's what you are asking. But I owed him... big time. There were some things we **did** have in common."

Trowa frowned slightly. The answer seemed a little vague and evasive.

"You knew he and his friend were planning to leave the country?" Quatre asked. "I don't know too much about that time, but I can imagine that wouldn't be something you would go around telling people openly, would it?"

"No, it most definitely wouldn't. In spite of all the protest and the popular opinion on the war changing, there were still lots of people who saw draft evaders as cowards taking he easy way out. Not to mentioned there were spies pretty much everywhere, you had to be careful who to talk to about these things."

"But there were plenty of other people who didn't run away," Quatre continued. "People who burned their draft cards and organized protest and walk outs, activists that made their opinion know and maybe even went to the extreme of bombing a recruitment center..."

"I wouldn't exactly call that activism."

"Hmm... maybe not," the young man replied, "but under the circumstances maybe it could be considered acceptable."

"Violence is never acceptable, under no circumstance. There are always other... better solutions." Stephan argued. "I am sure your father would agree with me."

"I'm sure he would."

"Excuse me, Sir." The butler announced from the door. "I was told to let you know that dinner will be ready in five minutes. Should I call for Master Milliardo and the Professor, as well?"

"Thank you, Paigan. Please do. They are down in the cellar." Stephan nodded at his guests as he rose from his chair. "Let me show you to the table."

##

"So, what did you think about the wine cellar, Professor?" Milliardo's father asked as he passed the bread basket at the table.

"I love it, very functional, very organized...I think it would be perfect for our house, as well. Don't you think Milliardo?"

"Yes, you will have to give us the name of the name of the company that build it for you."

"I can do that," Stephan nodded. "But speaking of building... I understand you've made your decision to buy the house on Manor Terrace."

"I did," his son confirmed. "If everything goes well, I'll be the new owner in about..." Milliardo checked his watch. "15 hours."

"Congratulations, I suppose. Shall we drink to success in your new venture?!" The elder Peacecraft waited for everyone to raise their glass. "Good luck, Son."

"Thanks."

"So, what exactly are you going on doing with the place?" Relena wanted to know. "I hope you are not planning on ripping it down and building some modern apartment box in its place."

Her brother laughed. "Do I look like I have that kind of money? Besides, the city wouldn't allow it, anyway. Manor Terrace is part of the so called 'historic zone'. they only allow restoration in those areas. Any changes to the original plans have to be approved. No, I just want to fix it up, restore it to the way it used to look, like Treize and I did with Grandma's house, and hopefully sell it for a good profit."

"Good. I like the way old town looks."

"Umm..." Trowa put down his fork and knife as he looked up. "Speaking of the original plans. Milliardo mentioned they are in your possession right now, Mister Peacecraft. Did you have a chance to look them over?"

"Briefly, yes. I wanted to make sure we won't stumble over any hidden surprises once the sale is final. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering... There is an area in the backyard with small deck of sorts with a build-in BBQ. You wouldn't happen to know what was there originally, would you?"

"Yes, of course. I don't even need a plan for that. That's where the old well was."

"The old well?"

"Yes, all the old houses were build before central plumbing and electricity, so each house had its own private well to provide them with water. Of course once they started getting their water through pipes and faucets those wells became quickly obsolete, and most of them were eventually filled up or paved over."

Quatre exchanged an almost startled look with his friend. _A well, of course... a deep, narrow hole... a dark, watery grave. That makes sense. It fits perfectly with my visions. Why didn't I think of it sooner._

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 13**

"Wait, let me see if I got this straight..." Sheriff Bonaparte looked at his guests with an expression of disbelief. "You want me to dig up someone's backyard because you are convinced that we might find a buried body, and you want me to take your word for it, but you are unable to tell me who or what exactly made you come up with that strange idea."

Quatre exchanged a look with Treize Khushrenada, who was sitting to his left. The professor had offered to accompany him and Trowa to the sheriff's office; apparently he and Bonaparte were acquaintances. At the moment that fact seemed to be the one and only reason why they hadn't been simply thrown out after making their request. It was quite apparent that the sheriff thought the young man was some kind of nutcase.

"Sheriff, I know it sounds strange, but you have to trust me for now. In 1972 two young men, students at Marymount college disappeared..."

"I am familiar with that case, thank you."

"Have you never wondered what happened to them?"

"It was a little before my time, but yes the sheriff's office back then did wonder and investigate.... I made myself familiar with the case file after your called last night, Mister Winner. Apparently the two of them left town on their own free will and went to Canada, along with hundreds of other young men during that time."

"Yes, but did your case files also show that they never got there?" Trowa pointed out.

"As unfortunate as that might be, I don't see the connection. Maybe they changed their minds...got into an accident on the way... lost in the mountains while crossing the border... the possibilities are endless."

"Yes," Quatre agreed, "but there is also the possibility that they never left this town to begin with, but instead met up with foul play."

Bonaparte sighed. "If you could give me any shred of evidence to your claim, I'd be more than willing to help you..."

"Please, Sheriff." Treize interjected. "Even if you don't believe the story for now, couldn't you just indulge us?"

"My dear Professor, do you have any idea what kind of bureaucratic nightmare it would create if I start digging up someone's private property without the proper cause and warrants? Not to mention..."

"Alright, how about if you had the home owner's permission." Treize turned his head toward the two younger men. "Milliardo is finalizing the sale as we speak, I should have no problem convincing him to sign any papers necessary to authorize the dig."

"Thank you." Quatre gave him a nod of gratitude. "Then it is set?"

"Permissions are just one thing," Bonaparte stifled his enthusiasm instantly. "I don't know if I'll be able to warrant the cost of such a project."

"Fine," Quatre replied without losing a beat. "If I am wrong, I'm prepared to repay every penny the sheriff's department spent. I am sure you know who I am, and that I am good for it."

"You see," Treize added. "We could just go ahead hire a construction crew and start digging on our own, but we wouldn't want to disturb any evidence. You and your men have much more experience... And really, Sheriff, can you just walk away knowing that a vicious crime might have been committed in your district?"

"Fine." Bonaparte finally mumbled, even as he glared at the professor for putting him on the spot like that. "I'll submit the necessary papers to the judge, but I can make no promises."

"Thank you Sheriff, that's all we can ask for." Treize replied with a polite smile as he got up from his chair. "I'll make sure to get those permission papers signed and send to you as soon as possible. You will keep us informed, won't you?"

"I will."

"In that case, we won't take up any more of your time. Thanks again."

"Yes, thank you for taking the time to listen to us on such a short notice." Following the professor's example, Quatre and Trowa rose to their feet.

The two young men followed the Treize as he left the office, and nearly ran into Heero Yuy who was entering the building at the same moment.

"Professor?! I didn't expect to see you here."

"I'm accompanying Trowa and Quatre, who had an appointment with Sheriff Bonaparte. What about you; speeding tickets?" Treize smirked.

The young man laughed as he greeted his friends with a nod. "No, nothing like that. I am here to see the sheriff as well. And frankly I'm not quite sure while people always think that just because someone owns a fast car they have to drive fast."

"Touché," the professor chuckled. "Although, if you'd ask Milliardo he'd probably tell you, what's the point of driving a fast car if you can't drive it fast."

"Yes, that sounds like something he would say. I'll see you guys in school, tomorrow."

As Heero made his way into the sheriff's office, Treize and his two companions headed for the parking lot in front.

"Thanks again, I'm not sure we would have accomplished anything without you." Quatre told the professor before they parted.

Treize shook his head with a dismissive gesture. "It was nothing. Sheriff Bonaparte is a good guy in general. He would have done the right thing, I am sure of it. So, what are you two up to now?"

"Not sure yet."

"I still have some homework to do." Trowa admitted. "What about you, Professor?"

" A Holiday on a Monday is like an extra day of the weekend, definitely something one should take advantage of, so we were planning on driving to the nursery to pick up some flowers for the garden, and get it all nice and spruced up for Wufei's party. Which reminds me..." he let his gaze wander from Quatre to Trowa and back. "You will be at the restaurant on Wednesday, won't you?"

"Absolutely," Quatre confirmed. "Have you figured out yet how to get Wufei there without telling him?"

"No, not exactly. But Duo said not to worry about it, he would take care of it. And knowing Duo, I have no doubt that he will."

"I'm really looking forward to it." Trowa replied. "And even more to finally get a chance to meet the mysterious Alexander. I have never met a... ghost before."

Treize laughed. "Most people probably haven't, or aren't aware of it. Unfortunately I can't make any promises. He might show himself and make himself known, or he might chose to spend the afternoon watching TV or playing piano in the attic. Alexander has a very... shall I say independent personality. He will do as he pleases whenever it pleases him. I have the slight suspicion it was like that already before he died. I think an entry made by Milliardo's great grandfather Octavian in his diary, describes it best. 'This is Alexander's world, and the rest of us merely have the pleasure of being allowed to live in it.'"

"Now I am even more curious." the young man admitted.

####

"How much further is it?" Wufei, sitting next to Duo in his truck, asked as he gazed out of the window. His friend had talked him into skipping their last class for the day and helping him with some kind job, but had been rather tied lipped about the details.

"Almost there, just a few more blocks." his friend assured him.

"You know we are in China town, right?"

"Doh! Of course I do, why do you think I am bringing you along? What if those people don't speak English."

"What kind of job are we talking anyway?"

" Picking up some furniture or boxes I assume. I DO work for a moving company, as you may know."

Wufei snorted. Of course he knew. "We could have at least stopped for lunch first, I'm starving."

"Good! Umm... what I mean is, it's good because I'm going to take you out for lunch afterward. It won't take long I promise. And after lunch I thought we can catch a movie, my treat as well, since it is your birthday."

"Fine."

"Alright, let me call in to let the people know we are on the way." Duo pulled out his cell phone, dialed and waited for someone to pick up on the other end. "Duo Maxwell with A1 movers here, we are about 5 minutes out. Please make sure that someone is there to meet us when we arrive."

#

"Got it, see you then." Milliardo nodded in confirmation as he closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "That was Duo, they are almost here," he explained, directed at his lover and the two other young men waiting at the Jade Dragon. Treize had been able to reserve one of the restaurant's small private dining rooms. The staff was informed that this was a surprise party and willing to participate in the little charade.

The professor gestured for one of the Chinese waitresses who had been waiting patiently by the door. "They will be here any moment now."

"Then I'll let the cook now that it is time to start preparing your menu."

Treize nodded. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." She bowed and quickly disappeared toward the kitchen.

"You think Wufei knows what is going on?" Trowa asked. "I mean, he is a pretty smart guy..."

Milliardo shrugged as he took a sip from his iced tea. "It sounded like Duo still has him in the dark."

#

Wufei frowned as his friend pulled into a small alley leading to the backdoors of several businesses in the Diamond Center, the newest shopping center in the China town area. It was the kind of place someone would expect a delivery van pull up to, not a moving truck.

But one of the back doors was open, and a young woman in a traditional, Chinese dress seemed to be waiting for them.

Duo jumped out of the truck, slamming the door closed behind him. "Come on!" he gestured for his friend to follow.

"You are here to pick up boxes?" she asked and the young man nodded.

"Follow me quick. This way."

"Don't just stand there," Duo nudged his friend with his elbow. "Let's go. You were the one complaining how hungry you are; so let's get this over with."

"Right."

They followed the young woman through a hallway, past a few storage rooms and what seemed to be a large kitchen. The smell of roasting garlic, meat and sweet and sour sauces simmering on the fire made Wufei's stomach growl in protest. _We really should have eaten first._

Suddenly they found themselves in a small dining room. Wufei blinked in a mixture of confusion and surprise. The room was decorated with red and gold paper lanterns and a red banner wishing him health, good fortune and a long life.

"Happy Birthday!" His friends smiled.

The young man swallowed. "Maxwell, I had a feeling you were up to something but I'd never have guessed..."

With a wide grin Duo slapped his friend on the back. "Come on, sit down, birthday boy. The head of the table is yours."

Wufei had barely settled down on the ornate silk pillow when the waitress who had retreated after showing them in, returned with hot green tea and a large plate filled with steaming peach shaped birthday buns. She spoke something in Chinese as she set the plate down in front of the young man, and he thanked her.

"I.. I don't know what to say. You guys... I can't believe you did this for me." Taking one of the steamed buns Wufei started passing the plate around.

"It's out pleasure." Treize assured him. "I hope you brought your appetite."

"He is starving he told me."

"Maxwell!" A faint hue of pink stained the young man's cheeks even as he glared at his friend.

"Good." the professor replied. " I asked the cook to prepare a menu that fits the occasion. and from what I sampled the day I made the order, I can tell you, we will be in for a feast."

##

Duo's truck pulled up in front of the little Victorian house only a few moments after Treize and Milliardo. The 'birthday party' had left the Jade Dragon together but in their own cars, driving like a little caravan until Trowa and Quatre got stuck at a red light and fell behind.

Treize knocked at the front door and someone opened from the inside. As he and Milliardo entered, Duo hurried up the stone steps, taking two of them at once, and managed to get his foot into the door before Alexander could close it again.

"Hold on, old man, there are more of us to come."

In the kitchen Cabal was barking, excited about his masters' return, and started to scratch at the doggy gate that kept him from running free.

"Alright, alright," Milliardo called out to him. "Don't break down the house."

Setting down the boxes and presents he was helping Wufei to carry, Duo was about to slip off his shoes when the Professor stopped him.

"Leave them on, we will be sitting outside in the backyard."

The young man shrugged in response. "Fine."

By now Trowa and Quatre had arrived as well, driving down the street in search of a parking spot, and Duo held the door open for them.

"You have no idea what you missed, old man," he started to babble while he waited. "This was THE best Chinese food I've ever eaten. I can't pronounce half of the stuff we had, and I'm not even sure what some of it was...I'm not sure I want to know." he laughed. "But man it was good. Like I said, you really missed something."

"Alexander doesn't eat," Treize reminded him as he walked by on his way into the living room followed by Wufei. "Food...sleep...ghost don't have those kind of needs anymore."

"That seriously sucks. I mean what's the point of being around forever if you can't enjoy the little pleasures of life. But then again," he grinned. "At least you guys don't have to worry about him cleaning out your fridge while you are not looking."

#

"Who is cleaning out the fridge?" Quatre asked as he and Trowa walked up the front steps.

"No one." Milliardo popped his head through the kitchen door. "Come in guys. Straight through the living room to the patio, Alexander can show you. Duo, could you help give me a hand here?"

"Yes, sure." The young man disappeared into the kitchen. "What do you need?"

The moment he stepped over the threshold Quatre could feel Alexander's ghostly presence only a few feet away. He smiled softly. "I'm glad we meet again. This is my friend, Trowa Barton, I don't think you have been introduced yet."

"Nice to meet you." Trowa looked a little uneasy as he dipped his head in a curt nod. Not to be able to see the ghost was somewhat disconcerting, but he reminded himself that they were amongst friends and Alexander was no threat to his charge.

He tensed when light breeze blew past him followed by the strange feeling of someone moving around him.

Quatre's smile grew wider. "I think he likes you," he stated in a hushed voice. Suddenly something tugged at his arm, or more precise the jacket the young man had draped over it. It had been cool in the morning and he figured the temperature would dip again when dawn fell, so he had brought it along just in case. Quatre relaxed his grip and the jacket was pulled from his arm, floating away in mid air toward the coat rack where it was hung up in a neatly fashion.

"Thank you, Alexander."

"That's really convenient." Trowa whispered, a hint of humor in his voice. "You think he does laundry too?"

There was a second tug, and Quatre allowed himself to be gently guided into the living room from where he could see the open door to the patio where Treize and Wufei were moving about.

#

"Is there anything else I can do?" Wufei asked after he and the professor finished setting up a few chairs around the patio table.

"Indeed," Treize confirmed. "You can sit down and let us take care of everything else."

"But you already..."

"No buts." Raising one finger, the older man silenced him mid sentence. "Are you the birthday boy or not?"

"He is right," Trowa confirmed as he and Quatre joined them outside. "You should just take advantage of this and take it easy today."

"It just feels weird." the young man replied. "I am not used to having others do everything for me."

"Everyone should be indulged like that every once in a while." Quatre pointed out and the professor nodded in complete agreement.

"I could not have said it better myself." He lit a few strategically placed citronella candles to keep away the bugs, and handed Trowa and Quatre a handful of balloons. "Blow those up; we need some decorations."

"We don't need them." Wufei protested. He felt more than just a little embarrassed by all the attention. The last time he remembered having a birthday party with decorations and friends and cake was when he was still a little child.

"Yes we do." Treize's voice left no room for argument.

"Fine, balloons I'll take, but if you break out the party hats I'm running."

"I'll have to second that." Trowa laughed. "I'm not going to wear a silly party hat."

"Why not?" Quatre teased. "I think it would look cute on you."

"Sorry, but cute just isn't my style."

A few minutes later Milliardo and Duo walked outside as well, each of them carrying a large cooler filled with Beer cans and soda bottles submerged in ice cubes. The small group settled down around the table on the patio, except for Duo, who opted for one of the recliners on the lawn. Beer in hand the young man stretched out on his chair a satisfied smile on his face as he basked in the rays of the warm afternoon sun.

"This is Life!" he announced, and his friends laughed.

The young men talked for a while about anything and everything, until Treize suggested some sort of game to pass the time. They were still trying to decide on what game, when the professor suddenly raised his head.

"Is that someone's phone I am hearing?"

Indeed there was a slight ringing sound coming from inside the house.

"That's mine," Quatre realized. "I must have left it in my jacket."

The young man pushed himself up, about to hurry inside to get the phone. But before he was even fully on his feet, he felt the faint touch of a ghostly hand on his shoulder, telling him to sit back down. Somewhat surprised, Quatre obeyed and moments later Alexander bought the gadget to him.

"Thank you." the youth smiled in the direction where he could sense the ghost.

By now the phone had stopped ringing, and he quickly flipped it open to check who had been trying to call him. "My father's chief of security," he explained as he closed it again and slipped it into his pocket. "I'll call him back later."

"You sure it's nothing important?" Milliardo asked.

"No, he is probably just returning my call from this morning. If it was anything else he would have left a message."

Of course, that made sense.

"So what are we going to play?" Quatre asked just as a strong gust of wind flared up. The breeze caught a bunch of the colorful balloons, pushing them toward one of the burning candles, and the young man quickly reached out trying to grab them before they touched the flame. But as he did so his elbow unintentionally brushed against his beer glass, knocking it off the table. It happened too fast for anyone to react, and the glass shattered on the ground.

"I'm sorry, how clumsy of me." the young man apologized. "I hope this wasn't part of some expensive set."

"Don't worry about it." Treize assured him with a dismissive gesture. "It happens."

"Let me at least clean this mess up. I assume there is a broom in the kitchen?" Quatre offered, but once again Alexander beat him to it. The ghost not only picked up the broken glass quickly, but also returned with a cloth to dap away the liquid that had splashed against Quatre's pant legs.

"Thank you...again. I really being spoiled here." the young man smiled. And then as he felt the ghost retreat again he added. "He is the perfect gentleman, isn't he?"

"Not always." Treize begged to differ.

"Yes," Milliardo confirmed with a smirk. He was well aware of too many incidents were Alexander acted less than gentleman like. "But it seems he is going out of his way to show you his best side."

From his chair on the lawn, Duo Maxwell chuckled. "Has anyone considered that maybe our little ghost has a little male crush?"

"What are you trying to say?" Quatre asked.

"Well, think about it." his friend grinned. "Alexander fancied Octavian, right. A young man, intelligent, well spoken, polite, and... oh yes with blond hair. hmm... I wonder who else fits that description....?"

"Duo!" Quatre exclaimed, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Apparently he was not the only one offended by Duo's insinuation, because the words had barely left the young man's mouth when the sprinkler system suddenly came on, showering him with a cold spray of water from all sides.

Gasping in surprise Duo jumped to his feet, grabbed his beer and fled for the patio but not before getting thoroughly drenched. "What the heck... what was that for?"

After a brief moment of stunned silence his friends looked at one another and burst out in loud laughter.

"What did you expect, Maxwell?" Milliardo told him once he could breathe again. "Even a ghost will only take so much abuse. Come on," he suggested as he rose to his feet. "Let's get you something dry to wear before you catch a cold or anything worse."

"He can't say we haven't tried to warn him," Treize chuckled as their friend mumbled a few choice words and staggered away in his soaked clothes. As he looked around he couldn't help but notice the slight frown on Wufei's face.

"Is something wrong?" the professor asked.

"No," the young man shook his head. "I'm just a little surprised. Until today I'd never even realized that Alexander is able to leave the house and come into the backyard."

"To tell the truth, we didn't know for a long time either. He only started recently to go outside, to play with Cabal or just be around when we are out here."

"Recently..." Wufei mumbled thoughtfully, earning himself a surprised look from his friend. "That's what Milliardo said too, when he told he that he was had begun to add entries to Octavian's diary. Say! By any chance, do you know where the diary is right now?"

"Umm...yes, it's right here." Treize turned around in his chair and reached behind him, picking up the little book from the counter next to the BBQ. "Milliardo was writing in it earlier."

"As I thought!" Wufei looked up. "Do you might if I borrow your phone very quick? It's going to be a long distance call, though."

"Go right ahead," the professor told him. "Use the one in the study if you want some privacy."

"Thanks."

As the young man hurried off Treize exchanged a somewhat surprised look with Trowa and Quatre. Apparently neither of them were sure what just had occurred.

#

"Where is Wufei?" Milliardo asked as he and Duo returned, a few minutes later. The younger man was wearing one of Milliardo's sweat suits, while his own clothes were tumbling in the dryer.

"He went inside to make a phone call." Treize explained, followed by a brief account of their conversation leading up to the call.

"Hmm...I wonder what got him so excited." the tall, blond mused.

They didn't have to wait long to get their answer, for Wufei returned only a few moments later, looking even more enthusiastic than before.

"Of course," he exclaimed. "It makes total sense. Why didn't I think about it earlier."

"Mind telling us what you are talking about?" Trowa asked. "We are kind of lost here."

"Alexander, and his connection to the diary," Wufei explained as he settled down in his chair. "You see, from what I have learned there are several kind of spirits, most commonly known are vengeful spirits, who are kept from passing on to the afterlife by some kind of resentment, or guardian spirits who choose to stay in this world to, as the name suggests, guard and protect something." he paused to look around and noticed a few nods amongst his friends indicating that they understood what he was talking about.

"Since Alexander didn't move on after his murder was solved it was to assume that he was... is a guardian spirit. But until now I'd always assumed it is this house and those inside he is protecting."

"That makes perfect sense." Treize agreed. "It was after all his house and ever since he left it to Octavian his loved ones or their descendants have lived here."

Yes, however, I believe that it is the diary he is actually bound to. He gave this house away, it didn't really mean that much to him. But I think the diary, which contains Octavian's very personal thoughts and memories, is his most precious possession.

"Hmm..." Milliardo looked thoughtful. "I suppose that would explain why he has always been so protective of it. In the beginning he would barely let it out of his sight, and still it keeps finding its way back to the attic every night after I write in it. But what exactly does it mean?"

"I'm no expert either," Wufei admitted. "That's why I called someone I'd met while we were in China. From what I gather, if Alexander is truly bound to the diary he can follow it."

"That's why he is able to come outside into the garden while it is out here?!" Treize supposed.

"I believe so. Of course to be completely sure we would have to test that theory, by let's say taking the diary out into the street in front, and see if Alexander is able to follow."

"That would be amazing." Quatre exclaimed, just as the sound of the doorbell rang out.

"Indeed," Treize confirmed as he checked his watch. "But it will have to wait. Heero said he'd come over after work; that's probably him right now. He knows nothing of Alexander. So, let's stop talking about ghosts for the moment."

"He'd probably not believe us anyway." Duo grinned, while the professor got up to welcome their new guest. "As far as he is concerned, there is no such thing as ghosts. His words, Alexander, not mine. So don't get upset at me again, alright."

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 14**

_Saturday, September 21th,_ Milliardo printed carefully. His handwriting was no match to his great- grandfather's elegant calligraphy, but he did his best.

_I'm not sure who was more excited this morning, Treize and I or Alexander, _he wrote. _After testing Wufei's theory regarding our ghostly houseguest and this diary, by using it to coax Alex out into the front yard, Treize decided last night that we should 'take Great grandfather for a walk' in the park. He called up Quatre who happily agreed to come with us. _

_The park was close enough for us to get there on foot, which was probably best, since neither of us knew how Alexander might react to a car ride. After all, the last time he set foot outside 'carriages' were still driven by two or four horse powers and not by two hundred or more. _

_Trowa dropped Quatre off soon after breakfast, entrusting us with his safety. And truth to be told, with Alexander around we were sure he was as safe as could be. I went to get the diary while Treize leashed the dog, and that is how Alexander's first outing after more than a hundred years began..._

_Everything went pretty smooth; I had been most worried about losing Alexander along the way. With all the hustle and bustle around it could have been so easy for him to wander off, or so I thought. But we made to the park without problems, but not without receiving a few strange looks when Quatre tried to explain the purpose of a traffic light to Alexander while we waited to cross the street. _

_Whitten Park itself is not that different from what it might have looked like a hundred years ago. There are still the old fountains and statues, the stone benches and dirt pathways lined by flowerbeds. Only the trees were probably a lot taller than he remembered, and I don't think they had basketball courts back then either.  
We settled down beneath a large oak tree, and at first Alexander never left our side. I could feel his presence nearby. But after an hour or so he felt comfortable enough to cause a little mischief amongst a group of teenage boys trying to play football on the lawn. It was hilarious to see their faces when their ball suddenly started to move in ways and directions it shouldn't have according to the laws of gravity.  
But it was not all mischief this morning; Alexander also saved a little boy from falling off his bike and stopped a little girl tears when he returned her runaway balloon. So much for not liking children..._

"Next time we should pack a picnic," Milliardo suggested as he closed the diary.  
"Excellent idea," Treize nodded. He had just made a pod of fresh coffee, but waited for his lover to finish his entry before actually setting the table. Ever since the discovery of Alexander's connection to the diary they had become a lot more aware and careful around it.

"Thanks!" Milliardo reached for his cup and leaned back in his chair. "You know, it's still wrap my head around the idea of Alexander being able to leave the house. But at the same time, I feel a little proud."

"Proud?"

"Yeah, like a parents watching his child reach a milestone, I guess. Does that seem weird?"

Treize huffed in a mixture of amusement and sarcasm. "Just wait until he wants his own phone and starts asking for the car keys."

####

"Phone for you." Trowa tossed the receiver across the low coffee table to Quatre who caught it mid-air.

"Who is it?"

It was Sunday afternoon and he didn't really expect any calls, for he had talked to his family just this morning. And Rashid would have used his cell phone number if he wanted to reach him.

"Milliardo," the other youth replied as he settled down in his chair again.

"Ah, hi there, what's up, Milliardo? Another outing with Alexander?"

He could hear the young man on the other end chuckle. "No, I think one per weekend is enough." Then Milliardo turned serious. "I just wanted to let you know that I just got off the phone with Sheriff Bonaparte. He called to tell me that the judge signed the orders and they will be starting to dig up the old well first thing tomorrow morning."

"Really?!" Quatre's hand tightened around the phone. He had waited for this news for almost a week now, and yet it filled him more with anxiety than anything else. "Thanks for letting me know; I appreciate it."

"No problem at all," Milliardo assured him. "The Sheriff said since they will be only working in the backyard I can go ahead and do whatever I have planed inside the house. I have a onsite meeting with the contractor at 10:30 tomorrow, and I'll probably spend most of the day at the house. So, I'll keep you informed of any developments, alright?"

"Thanks." Quatre repeated. "That would be great. Say hello to Treize and Alex for me, will you?"

As the young man ended the call he noticed Trowa's gazed fixed upon him. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes...I think. They are going to start digging tomorrow."

"Are they?"

"Yes. It's strange you know. Part of me wishes they'll find their bodies, but another part wishes that they won't. Because then there would still be hope that I might be wrong about all of this."

"I know what you mean." Trowa reached out to gently touch the other youth' arm. "But either way, at least we will know for sure."

"You are right." Quatre took a deep breath as he covered Trowa's hand with his own.

"Have you had any new dreams or visions?" his friend wanted to know.

"Not really," he admitted. "Just bits and pieces, too vague to make heads and tails of them. Maybe Mike told me all he wanted me to know. I guess we will see."

Trowa nodded. "Yeah. Should I make us some tea?"

"Actually, I feel like hot chocolate. You stay, I'll go make us some... umm, if you do want some that is."

"I do. And put those little marshmallows in."

"Will do."

Trowa's gaze followed him as he left the living room and walked into the kitchen. It had only been little more than a month since they moved in together, but somehow it felt like they had known one another for much longer.

_He's surprised me, _Trowa thought. _He is anything but the spoiled rich kid I thought him to be when I first met him. Or maybe it's just that he has changed since then._

####

Treize was sitting in the kitchen enjoying his second cup of morning java when Milliardo came downstairs, freshly showered and shaven, and dresses in a dress shirt and slacks instead of his usual jeans and t-shirt.

"Did you make me some coffee, too?"

The professor looked up, raising one eyebrow in surprise. Milliardo was by definition not a morning person and on those rare occasions when he actually made it to the breakfast table he was usually still wearing his pajamas.

"Yes, I made some extra. Want some toast, too?" He gestured at his plate.

"Thanks." Walking up to his lover Milliardo dipped his head for a brief but affection good-morning kiss as he helped himself to a slice of already buttered toast.

"You are going somewhere?"

"Meeting the contractor," the young man mumbled around a mouthful of food.

"I thought that wasn't until 10:30," Treize remarked.

Milliardo nodded as he took another bite. He poured himself a cup of coffee and dropped into the chair across from the professor.

"I just want to go over the house once more before they get there, make sure I didn't miss anything. Also, the sheriff said his men will show up first thing in the morning; they don't really need me since they will only enter the backyard. But I still want to be around when they start digging."

Treize nodded understandingly. "I almost forgot about that. Did you tell Quatre about it?"

"Yeah, I called him yesterday."

"Speaking of calling.... Did you call Wufei and ask him about checking in on the house and Alexander while we are out of town?"

"I did, but he can't do it. He has a tournament next weekend; they are leaving Friday night and won't be back till Sunday afternoon. But I talked to Duo; he said he will do it." Milliardo took a sip of coffee and looked around. "Where is Cabal; don't tell me he is still sleeping."

"No, Alexander took him out into the backyard."

"Ah. I wonder if I should take him with me; I'll probably be gone most of the day."

"Alexander or the dog?"

"Cabal. I really don't want Alexander to think he has to be dog-sitting him all the time."

"Actually, I think he enjoys it. But why don't you ask him yourself. Tell him to put Cabal's leach by the door if he wants you to take him."

"Hmm...great idea. Talking of which... I was thinking of coming by school for lunch."

"Ah, you are actually missing the cafeteria food!?" Treize concluded with a smirk.

"Quite the contraire, dear. I feel sorry for you having to eat there every day, so I figured I'd save you from it by taking you out to eat."

The older man laughed. "You know the food is not quite as bad as you make it out to be, but I'd be a fool to decline such an offer."

"Then it's set," Milliardo nodded firmly. "I'll meet you at 12:30 in the parking lot."

"I shall be there. But now I'd better get moving. It would be bad form for the teacher to be late for his own class." As Treize rose to his feet he leaned over the table to kiss his lover good-bye. "You look hot," he breathed into his ear. "You should dress up like this more often."

Smiling softly, Milliardo's eyes followed his lover as he walked out the kitchen and up the stairs when the door to the backyard flew open and he was suddenly assaulted by 60 pounds of white and brown fur. Cabal shot into the kitchen like a bolt of greased lightning, throwing himself onto his master with his fluffy tail wagging.

"Cabal, down!" Milliardo tried to keep him at arm's length as he scratched him behind his ears.

"Alexander," he said as he felt the ghostly presents following the dog. "I have a question to ask you..."

####

The cab driver looked back over his shoulder at his passenger as he pulled up in front of the 2 story house just behind one of several police cars. "This is the place you want me to drop you off?"

"Yes." Quatre nodded. He paid the man, adding a generous tip to the fare, and climbed out of the car.

Hesitating for a brief moment he finally walked up to the entrance and rang the bell. Milliardo opened a few minutes later giving the young man a surprised look.

"Quatre, what are you doing here?"

"Sorry, I was so restless I just felt I had to come here and watch. I hope it's alright with you?"

"Yes, of course," the older youth frowned slightly as he looked up and down the street. "Where is Trowa?"

"At home; I took a taxi cab."

Milliardo frown only deepened. "He let you go by yourself?"

"Not exactly," Quatre admitted as he followed the young man inside. "After what happened last time, I was sure he wouldn't let me anywhere near this house again, so I didn't even bother asking."

"How did you manage to sneak out on him?"

"My bedroom window faces the side street."

Through the sliding glass door in the living room one could watch a handful of construction workers and a number of uniformed officers move around.

"They have been going at it with a sledge hammer for the past two hours." Milliardo explained, gesturing at the broken up concrete pieces that once made up the BBQ area. Looks like they are almost ready to start digging now."

Sure enough, a few minutes later a small Bobcat excavator slowly made its way into the garden. The driver only had a few inches of room on each side, but he managed to move the heavy machine through the gate, smoothly like fitting a thread through a needle.

"Are you sure you are alright?" Milliardo watched the younger man warily. He too, remembered only too well what happened the last time Quatre got too close to the well and he was not sure what would happen once they actually broke the surface and opened the shaft. For a moment he considered calling Trowa, but the other youth seemed to be reading his mind.

"Don't!" he pleaded. "I really need to be here right now. I will stay inside and I'll be fine, I'm sure."

##

"Quatre?" Trowa knocked quietly at the door to his friend's bedroom. "Are you awake? I made some tea."

Earlier, after coming home from school, Quatre had complained about a slight headache and decided to take a little nap. But that was almost two hours ago. Normally he never slept that long, so Trowa was more concerned than alarmed when he didn't receive an answer.

Slowly and quietly the young man opened the door, to make sure everything was alright. Imagine his surprise when he found the bed untouched and the room empty. Trowa frowned as he looked around. The door to the bathroom stood open far enough for him to see that Quatre was not in there either. His eyes narrowed even more as he noticed the missing screen from the open window.

"Damn it!" he pressed through his closed teeth.

Although he was pretty sure he didn't hear Quatre leave his room or come downstairs Trowa quickly checked the house and called his friend's name a couple of times, before he pulled out his phone.

"Pick up," he whisper as he listened to the ringing. "Pick up!!"

Finally there was click in the line.

"Where are you?" Trowa barked, before Quatre could even say anything.

#

Milliardo was talking to the plumber about transforming the small downstairs powder room into a full size bath, when Quatre's phone rang. From the unique ringtone he could tell right away who the caller was. He hesitated for a few moments before he finally picked up.

"Where are you?" Trowa sounded anything but pleased, but Quatre couldn't really blame him.

"I am sorry."

"You are at that house, aren't you?"

"I had to be here and see it myself," he tried to explain.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Would you have let me go if I did?"

Trowa didn't answer , which in itself was answer enough.

"Exactly!" the other youth remarked grimly.

There was a moment of silence before the bodyguard spoke again. "Stay where you are, I am coming to pick you up."

"I am not going anywhere." Quatre replied in a voice that made it clear he didn't just mean that he would be waiting for Trowa.

"We'll talk about that when I get there."

"Hold on...!" Some commotion outside caught Quatre's attention.

One of the workers, who had been watching the slowly growing hole in the ground, had suddenly started to wave his arms, gesturing the driver in the bobcat to stop digging. The machine came to a hold with its long bucket arm just above ground, and two of the uniformed officers hurried over.

"What's going on?" Trowa's voice came through the phone.

Quatre swallowed as he recognized the ivory colored object sticking out from amongst the dirt in the bucket. "They just found something!"

He could hear Trowa take a sharp breath.

"I'm on my way!"

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 15**

Sheriff Bonaparte arrived shortly before the medical examiner's van pulled up, and only a few minutes after Trowa.

"I suppose I do owe you an apology," he told Quatre as he entered the house. "I'll have to admit that I was not exactly convinced that this was nothing but a big waste of time and money."

"Don't worry, I am not holding it against you," Quatre assured him with a polite smile. "That you talked to the judge in spite of your misgivings is what counts."

"No," the sheriff insisted. "I should have been a little more open-minded from the start."

He talked for a little longer with the two young men before joining the doctor and his assistant in the garden.

Quatre crooked his head, gazing up at Trowa who had barely spoken a word to him since he arrived. "Still angry?"

"What do you think?" the other youth snapped back. "I thought we had established at least enough trust that you wouldn't do something as childish as sneaking out on me."

"I said I was sorry, but maybe if you would not treat me like a child by making decisions for me..."

"You father hired me to protect you, that includes making decisions regarding your welfare.""

"I don't think this is the place or time to argue." Quatre pointed out.

"I agree." Trowa didn't even look at him.

Quatre sighed inwardly.

Through the sliding glass door they could see Bonaparte talk to the medical examiner. When the sheriff came back inside a few minutes later, his expression was even more serious than before, which could only mean one thing...

"Those were human bones, weren't they?" the young man asked quietly.

"I am afraid so," the sheriff confirmed soberly. "So far the doctor could not tell me much more than that, but yes those remains are defiantly human."

"Does this mean the whole place is going to be an official crime scene?" Milliardo, who had been talking on the phone to Treize until a few moments ago, asked. After all, he needed to know if he has to re-schedule his construction work.

"Assuming the remains are connected to those two students who disappeared back in 72, I don't think there would be much if any evidence left by now. Our first priority will be the identification of the remains and the cause of death, and then take it from there."

Milliardo nodded in acknowledgement. "Thanks, I take it you will keep us in the loop."

"Of course."

"Sheriff," Trowa said. "my adoptive sister e-mailed me the name and phone number of her brother's former dentist. He is retired by now, but I assume he should still be able to provide you with any records you might need for identification."

"Thank you, that **would** be helpful." Bonaparte confirmed. "I can't imagine the school would still have any medical records reaching back that far."

###

News about the grisly discovery spread like a wildfire over dry brush. Within an hour or so the street was filled with curious onlookers, and news vans were fighting for the best locations near the house. And by evening there was not a TV station in the state that hadn't picked up on the story.

"Peace?!" Quatre put on a lopsided grin that always seemed to be working for Duo Maxwell. He walked into the living room balancing a tray with two cups of steaming hot cocoa. "I made some hot chocolate."

"Thanks, but I am fine." Trowa didn't even take his eyes off the TV screen.

"I put extra marshmallows in yours."

Trowa gave a quiet huff of exasperation as he reached for the TV remote and turned off the newscast he had been watching. How could he possibly remain angry like this. "Fine," he sighed. "I suppose I have no choice. Can't risk you giving yourself a stomach ache trying to drink both cups."

"Exactly." Quatre's grin turned into a smirk. "Especially since you are responsible for my wellbeing."

The other youth snorted in amusement at the stab, as he took the cup he was offered, but when Quatre settled down on the couch beside him he turned serious. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now that we are talking again."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." Quatre replied. "I'm fine, really. But how about you? I realize you never knew Trowa... But still, you are part of his family after all."

His friend shrugged. "To tell the truth I am not really sure how I feel... how I am supposed to feel. Maybe once they confirm who those remains belong to..." he trailed off, swallowing the rest of the sentence but Quatre knew what he meant.

There was a moment of silence before the blond teen looked up. "I want to go back to the house again, tomorrow after school," he declared.

Trowa crooked his head. "So, the hot chocolate is supposed to be a double bribe?!"

"Well I **did** put in twice the marshmallows. And I'll throw in some almond cookies."

"Freshly baked?"

"Premade from the freezer, but freshly baked."

"Alright, I suppose you have yourself a deal. If I said 'No' you'd probably climb out of the window again, anyway."

###

By morning Marymount College was bustling with the news. The police hadn't even confirmed yet who's body had been found, but everyone in school seemed to have their own opinion. It was the stuff rumors and gossip was made of.

Early in the afternoon, right after their last class ended, Trowa and Quatre drove back to the house. The surrounding streets were still crammed with onlookers and vans sporting the logos of most local and some national TV stations. Only police cars and residents were allowed to enter Manor Terrace, while a yellow crime-scene tape kept reporters and spectator at bay.

Trowa had no desire to leave his car half a block away and fight his way through the crowd, but luckily one of the sheriff's deputies on duty recognized the young man and waved him through.

"Thanks." He gave the officer an friendly nod as he passed him.

"Pull into the driveway if you can, we are trying to keep the street clear."

"Will do."

Milliardo had given his friends a spare key so that they could let themselves in whenever they wanted.

"Hello...?! Milliardo...anyone home?" Quatre called out as he looked around. There was no answer; the house seemed empty. "Looks like he isn't here," he declared when he walked into the living room.

"I know." Trowa gestured at a note sitting on the breakfast bar that divided the room from the kitchen area.

The other youth picked up the paper; his eyes flew over the handwritten lines.

_Treize and I went to the vet with Cabal (no, noting serious, he just needs to get his final puppy shots).  
Make yourselves a home. There is a bag of coffee in the cabinet over the sink. Make some extra, I'll be back soon.  
And don't forget the history paper is due on Thursday._

_Milliardo_

_P.S. Sorry, Treize made me write that._

"Hmm... I guess coffee does sounds good right now. Wish I could say the same about the history paper."

"You haven't finished it yet?"

"You have?" Quatre gave his friend a surprised look.

"Yep, finished it yesterday afternoon while you were taking a nap... or better while you were sneaking out of the house."

"Good." The blonde replied cheekily. "Then you have time to make coffee."

The other youth gave a semi-amused huff. He was just about to open his mouth to tell Quatre to brew his own coffee when a knock on the door interrupted them.

"Milliardo already?"

"He has a key," Trowa pointed out. "He wouldn't knock."

"Good point." Quatre was already on his way to the door to open it. "Ah, Mister Peacecraft. How nice to see you again," he greeted the visitor and took a step aside. "Please come in."

"Hello Quatre, Trowa." The older man nodded at them. "Is my son here?"

"Not at the moment, but he should be back soon, if you would like to wait."

"Ah yes, he said something about a vet appointment. He wanted me to him meet him at three, but I am a little early."

"Trowa was just about to make some coffee; weren't you?" Quatre gave the other youth a smile and the most innocent puppy eyed look he could master, making it impossible for him to say no. " You will join us for a cup, won't you?"

"I'd love to," Stephan replied. "If it isn't too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Trowa assured him. As he headed into the kitchen Stephan Peacecraft stepped toward the big sliding glass door, from where he could watch the police team work in the garden. "I still can't believe it... To think that it really could be Mike or Trowa's remains they dug up." He shook his head in an expression of disbelieve before turning toward Quatre. "They said in the news that only one body was found; is that true?"

"So far, yes. Does it surprise you?" the young man replied. Truth to be told it surprised him just as much. Quatre had been fully convinced that the police was going to find two bodies down in the well, and he was still waiting for the second discovery.

"To be honest, everything about this matter surprises me. The idea that Mike and Trowa could have been dead all these years while we thought they had gone to Canada... I mean, back then things were a little rough on campus.... protests against the war and the opening of a new recruitment center on school grounds, a few small clashes between students and police. But it never got out of hand or got violent like in some of the larger universities. Besides I don't think Mike had anything else but music on his mind and Trowa wasn't political active either."

"But you were?" Quatre studied the older man thoroughly. Of course, he knew the answer already from his visions.

"Times were different back then." Stephan looked almost a little embarrassed. "I was young and there was this girl I was desperately trying to impress..." He laughed wryly.

"Do you think that whatever happened to them had anything to do with the... political situation back then?"

"Like I said, I do not know what to think. But I can't believe the two of them had any real enemies."

"What about someone by the name of Mueller, Pete Mueller, and his friends. Someone told me that Trowa almost got into a fistfight with them and that you had to step in to cool things off."

The elder Peacecraft laughed again, sounding even more embarrassed than before. "Who have you been talking to? Yes, I do remember them banging heads on a few occasions. Mueller was always a hothead, but a murderer, no way."

"Any relationship to Kevin Mueller, who is a senior in Marymount now?" Trowa asked as he put a couple of mismatched coffee cups into the counter. "He has a bit of a attitude problem as well."

"Ah yes, that would be father and son." Stephan nodded. "I hate to say it, but you could call it a typical case of the apple not falling to far from the tree."

"You wouldn't be talking about you and me now, would you?"

Three heads snapped around to the front door in unison, where Milliardo had just walked in catching only the last part of the conversation.

"You are back." his father greeted him. "Where is the dog? I thought you were taking him to the vet."

"Treize is taking him home. He just dropped me off on the way. Do I smell coffee?"

"Perfect timing," Trowa told him, and as if on cue the coffeemaker's beeping indicated the end of the brewing cycle. As the young man reached for the pot and filled the cups, everyone shuffled around the little breakfast counter.

"You know, Son, if you do have people over here you could at least make sure to have a few chairs around for them to sit on," Stephan complained.

"Of course dad, how about a couch and cable TV as well, then the construction workers can sit around ordering pay-per-view when they should be working," his son shot back, earning himself a slap on the back of the head.

"Don't be a wise guy."

"Mister Peacecraft, do you mind if I'd ask you a question?" Quatre tried to steer the conversation back to their original topic.

"Please, go ahead."

"Back when we were talking, at your house... you mentioned that you 'owed' Trowa. I was wondering what you meant by that."

"Oh yes, I did say that, didn't I?" The elder Peacecraft stared into his coffee cup for a few moments, making Quatre wonder if he was hesitant to talk about it or just searching for the right words. "To say the least he saved me from being arrested if not from a stiff jail sentence," he finally said.

"Jail!" Milliardo exclaimed. "What the heck were you trying to do, blow up the cafeteria?"

"... or maybe the military recruitment center..." Quatre added quietly.

Stephan looked at the young man then at his son who stared at him in complete surprise.

"Did you?!"

"Of course not! Are you out of your mind? No, I was not planning on 'blowing up' anything. Violence of that nature never solves anything."

"Then why were you carrying around instruction on how to do it?" Milliardo wanted to know. Quatre had told him about his visions.

His father's jaw nearly dropped. "How do you know this kind of stuff?"

"Never mind that. You were going to do something, weren't you?"

"Yes, but it's not what you think." Stephan finally admitted. "I was going to spray paint the recruitment office; superglue the doors and windows shut but that's as far as I would have gone. And as for those pamphlets you were referring to... I pick those up at a rally. Like I said, there was this girl I was trying to impress. She wanted to go to the meetings and I figured I could earn some brownie points by asking her to go together."

"Did it work? ... impressing the girl I mean."

Milliardo's father's smirked. "Why don't you ask her next time you come by for dinner."

"Mom?!" his son snorted. "My parents were radicals in the 70s and I wasn't even allowed to play with a water gun."

"It was one meeting... one meeting alright. We never went back. And as for you, I think you grew up quite nicely without playing with guns and pretending to kill your friends."

"So what happened?" Trowa wanted to know. "Between you and my adoptive brother, I mean. You said he saved you from getting arrested."

"Ah yes... It was the night before the recruitment center was going to open. I felt like I had to do something. So after working at my father's company until about 10 pm, I drove back to school," Stephan paused briefly as he started to recall that evening more than 30 years ago. "I had a few cans of spray paint and some super glue in my duffle bag. After the recent protests a curfew had been put over the school and guards had been hired to enforce it. Aside from a few facilities like the library everything was closed after dark. So by the time I got there the campus lay dark and quiet. I had just crossed the athletic fields and headed past the old administration building when I suddenly heard a sound...

_...The young man held his step, looking back over his shoulder. At first he only saw a small reddish glimmer; the tip of a cigarette glowing in the dark. Then he sound of feet shuffling over the gravel covered ground as a large figure stepped out of the shadows._

_"Who is there?"_

_For a moment he assumed it was one of the guards, but he recognized the slow, deep voice the moment the figure started to talk._

_"Whatever it is you are planning, I wouldn't do it."_

_Stephan's eyes narrowed in an angry frown. "How are you going to stop me?"_

_"Who said I was?" Trowa snorted and threw his cigarette onto the ground. "Listen, I don't like this war any more than you do. Quite a few friends of mine came back in body bags. And my cousin, I guess he was luckier...If you want to call it that. He only lost his legs, and has a steel plate in his head where a grenade ripped open his skull. Before they sent him over there he was accepted at Harvard, on a full physics scholarship. Now he spends his time sitting on the porch in his wheelchair, drooling and smiling at the people going by. And it is the highlight of his day when someone smiles back at him."_

_"Then why...?" Stephan asked. "Why are you trying to stop me?"_

_"I told you, I am not." the other youth replied. " I only wanted to warn you? I was walking past the teacher's lounge this morning when I overheard them talk about a new security system they installed at the recruitment center; cameras and all."_

_Stephan's eyes went wide. "Are you serious?"_

_"Like a heart attack."_

_"So you are just hanging around to warn anyone who might sneak in?" the young man was still skeptical._

_Trowa snorted again. "I was thrown out of the library, apparently you are not supposed to smoke in there, when I saw you climb the fence." he took a semi-squished Marlboro pack from his shirt pocket, pulled out a cigarette before offering it to the other youth._

_"No thanks." Stephan shook his head. "I guess I owe you. If there is anything I can do in return."_

_With a shrug Trowa lit his cigarette."I might actually have to take you up on that sooner than later."_

_The older youth gave him a questioning look._

_"Mike got his draft letter the other day."_

_"Damn...what is he going to do?"_

_"We are going over the border." It sounded like it was already decided._

_"That will take money."_

_"I know. That's what I mean."_

_Stephan nodded. "I'll see what I can do." His father had him work on the company's books; he knew he could easily skim a couple hundred bucks here and there without anyone noticing. "When are you leaving?"_

_"Not sure yet. Mike just got in contact with some agent from New York; apparently the guy also worked with Diciasetto. They are meeting Friday night. We will see what happens and then decide when and where we will leave."_

_"That's right, the professor wrote some songs they used on Broadway, didn't he?"_

_"Who knows. You'd have to ask Mike about that kind of stuff, not me. Anyway, I'll head back to the library see if he is done."_

_After that Trowa turned and strolled off in the direction of the library building..._

...That was about 2 weeks before the two of them disappeared. We met again a week later and I loaned Trowa eight hundred dollar, part of which I had saved for a motorcycle. I told him I probably could get a little more in a few days. But then Mike told me not to worry about it; money was not going to be a problem. His music was finally paying off." Stephan looked up as he finished his account. "I thought of course he meant that he had made some kind of contract with that producer Trowa mentioned. But now that I think about it, there was something about the way he said it that didn't sound right."

"Did you ask him about it?" Quatre wanted to know.

"No, I don't think I ever talked to either of them again after that day. " The elder Peacecraft shook his head while his son frowned slightly.

"But you didn't find it odd that they left without even saying good bye?"

"Not really, it's not like we were buddies or anything. Besides I had other things on my mind at that time."

"How to impress Mom?" Milliardo's smirk widened when he noticed his father was actually blushing.

"I wonder what happened?" Trowa mused. "I wonder if there is any way to find out the name of that music producer Mike was meeting."

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note:


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

NOTE: Chapter 16 of _The Well_ and chapter 7 of _The Junkyard_ are crossover chapters. I suggest to read The Well chapter first.

**The Well**

**Chapter 16**

Years of training and a job that required constant vigilance had turned Trowa into a light sleeper. His mind went from deep sleep to fully alert in an instant and he realized that something wasn't right even before he knew what had woken him. His hand reached into the nightstand drawer where he kept his loaded gun, as his eyes searched for the digital display of his alarm clock. It was almost 2:30 am when he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Shortly before 11 Quatre had gone to bed and Trowa himself went to his own room about fifteen minutes later, after taking a last round through the house, checking all the doors and windows and the alarm system.

The young man listened as he slowly and quietly opened his door and sneaked out of his room. Quatre's bedroom door was closed, but there was a light downstairs and he could hear slight noises. Trowa tensed. Without as much as a sound he moved down the stairs but relaxed once he recognized the figure kneeling on the carpet in the middle of the living room.

Quatre was picking up pretzel sticks he had apparently spilled all over the floor. It was probably the noise that had woken him, the bodyguard assumed. With a sigh of relieve he secured the handgun and tugged it into the waistband of his pajama pants.

"What are you doing at 2:30 in the morning?"

Quatre's head snapped around, startled. "Geez, are you trying to give me a heart attack," he complained. "What does it look like that I am doing?"

"What I meant it, what are you doing down here at 2:30 spilling pretzels in the first place." Trowa stepped closer and lowered himself to his knees to help with the cleanup. "Why aren't you in bed sleeping like a normal person?"

"Couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd work on the history paper for a while. Sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about it." the other youth stifled a yawn. "How about some warm milk, that should help you fall asleep," he suggested.

"Falling asleep is not really the problem." Quatre finally admitted with a sigh.

"You are having visions again?" Trowa asked quietly.

"More like nightmares." Visions he could deal with they were usually not too bad. But these dream sequences he was having were always the same terrible feeling of drowning in total blackness. He would wake up panting and trembling, feeling utterly lonely and afraid to go back to sleep because he knew the dream would return.

"You need to get some rest, otherwise you will be exhausted in school tomorrow."

"Maybe if we'd sleep together."

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry...I meant...." Quatre flushed red as a beet. Those words had just spilled out of his mouth without him even thinking about what he was suggesting. "...if we would sleep in the same room, of course."

"Of course." Trowa looked away, because his cheeks too were stained with a faint hue of crimson. "I'll get my pillow and some blankets, I can sleep on the floor in your room if that's what you want."

"Yes....I mean no... You don't have to sleep on the floor. The bed is big enough for both of us...." Quatre stammered. "If that's okay with you."

"It's fine with me, if you are alright with it."

"I am sure." The other youth blushed again and quickly busied himself by picking up the last of the pretzel sticks.

#

When Trowa woke again it was for a very different reason. Something soft and warm was pressing against his side, and when he opened his eyes he found that Quatre had moved over to his side of the bed and snuggled against him.

_At least he is sleeping soundly now, _he thought.

At first Quatre had been tossing and turning, and Trowa had been worried that he was having another nightmare.

With a soft smile he put his arm around the other youth. Quatre sighed softly and cuddled even closer, never even waking.

###

A overnight water main break in the basement of the administration building, where also most of the staff's offices were located, prompted some quick repair and clean-up work on Wednesday. Luckily Treize's office was directly affected. Still the professor tried to stay out of the workers' way. He was spending his two free hours between classes in the teacher's lounge instead, grading papers. Or at least that had been the idea, but he didn't realize how busy and noisy the place was at this time of the day. Teachers came and went, stopping by for a cup of coffee and some talk.

_I should have gone home,_ Treize sighed inwardly. He was checking his watch to see if there was still time when another pair of teachers entered the room.

"Are you sure it was Heero Yuy?" Miss Parker asked. She had taken over the science department after Professor Meyers retirement last semester. "Maybe you confused him with someone else."

"No mistake I assure you. He has been taking my classes for three semesters now, I know him well enough." Professor Farah, the math teacher replied.

Treize looked up; the name Heero Yuy had caught his attention.

"What a shame. I always thought him to be such a nice young man; always quiet and so very polite."

"Well, you know what they say about quiet waters, right?"

"Are you talking about him being picked up by the FBI this morning?" Another teacher joined in the conversation.

"You heard about it too, then?" Miss Parker asked.

"Lilly told me about it. She said she saw him being taken away in handcuffs."

Lilly was Lillian McGraw, the headmaster's secretary. She knew everything that was going on in school, or so she claimed.

_FBI... handcuffs..._ Treize's jaw nearly dropped. _What is going on?_

"Do you think this has anything to do with that body they found?"

"I don't know about **that**." The math professor bobbed his head thoughtfully before turning toward Treize, who quickly dropped his gaze down to the papers in front of him.

"What do you think Professor Khushrenada? Did you hear anything more?"

"Pardon?" He looked up smiling apologetically. "What was it you were saying? I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention I'm afraid," he lied. And then, before they could ask him any other questions he looked up to the clock on the wall.

"Oh dear, is it 11:30 already? I could have sworn I was only sitting here for a few minutes. You will have to excuse me." Swiftly gathering his papers and pens Treize fled the teachers' lounge. Once outside the professor checked his own watch and tried to remember what class Duo Maxwell would be in right now. If anyone would be able to put some light on the issue it was him.

By the time he had taken his things down to his office and made his way to Barkley Hall, lectures had just ended. He couldn't see Duo in the crowd of students, but Quatre and Trowa, who took the same class, were coming directly toward him.

"Hello there," he greeted the two young men. "You wouldn't know where Duo or Heero went, would you?"

"Duo went over to the athletics field," Trowa told him, and Quatre added:

"Heero left earlier. He was called out of class a few hours ago."

"Is that so? Oh well, I'll better hurry and see if I can catch up with Duo. Talk to you guys later."

Treize cut through the gardens and caught the braided youth just at the edge of the baseball field. "Duo?!"

The young man turned. "Ah Professor...Treize.... What's up?"

"Is everything alright with Heero? I mean is there anything I can do?"

"Do...? I'm not sure I understand. Are you talking about the kidnapping?"

"Kidnapping?!" Treize's eyes went wide.

"I guess not."

"I've heard that Heero has been arrested by the FBI; taken away in handcuffs. What in the world is going on. If he is in any kind of trouble, why didn't he or you come to me?"

Duo snorted as he tossed his backpack onto the waist-high wall surrounding the athletics complex. "The rumor mills are working overtime these days, it seems. Don't worry, I can assure you that Heero is not in trouble."

"There is always a grain of truth even in the largest cornfield of rumors." Treize pointed out, not completely convinced.

"I suppose the grain of truth would be that Heero did leave campus with an FBI agent, but not in handcuffs or because he has been arrested." the younger man admitted.

"Then you won't mind telling me what's going on?"

Duo hesitated, then finally sighed with a shrug. "I guess not. Heero didn't want this to get out until he was certain...but I am sure you go running around telling people. You see, Heero believes that he might have been kidnapped as a child, and that he might actually have a family...other than Doctor J."

The professor gave him a surprised look. "I knew that he has been adopted by J...but kidnapped... Are you serious?"

"To tell the truth, I didn't believe it at first. You know, growing up at the orphanage every child had some story like that. I got separated from my parents by mistake... I got kidnapped... it's been a mix-up at the hospital, but my real parents are looking for me and some day they will come to get me."

There was a brief pause before Treize quietly asked. "You said you didn't believe it at first. Does this mean you something changed that made you believe him?"

Duo nodded. "Little things here and there, they just seemed to add up and fit together..." He looked up at the professor. "It's a long story, you got time for a cup of coffee?"

"I do, but weren't you heading for basketball practice?"

"I think I'd better skip it today. I'm starting to feel a little ill. Wouldn't want to expose the team to whatever I might have." The young man grinned.

"What would that be, a serious case of Laziness?" Treize returned with a smirk. "Well, all right. I'll buy you a coffee and a sandwich, maybe that will make you feel better."

#

A few minutes later the Professor and Duo were settling down at a table in the back of the Cafeteria.

"It started a couple weeks ago when Heero and I took a trip to the junkyard to look for some old car parts..." The young man stirred his coffee even though he hadn't put any cream or sugar into it. "We came across this old Buick Regal and Heero insisted that he remembered driving in a car just like it when he was a child. You see, he never remembered his early childhood and little piece of memory prompted him to dig deeper. So we started by finding out more about that car and that's when..." Duo recounted in detail everything that had happened from their talk to Pete at the junkyard, over their visit at the Sleepy Inn Motel to the discoveries at the storage unit. "When Heero talked to Sheriff Bonaparte his story was convincing enough for the sheriff to contact the FBI. And I assume there was something to it that got the Fed's attentions, because they sent one of their agents over to pick up Heero and take him to the nearest FBI lab for an DNA test. And that's all that's to it."

Treize didn't answer right away. He needed a few minutes to process what he had just heard. "That's... remarkable." he finally declared. "But why didn't he come and talk to any of us? I am sure we could have helped; at least offer some kind of support. He didn't have to do this all by himself."

"He didn't." Duo replied. "I was there for him all the way."

"Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that...," the professor apologized. "How are things between you guys anyway?"

"Pretty good." the younger man smirked. "One time Heero mentioned something about being glad to have been set up but I'm not sure I understand what he was talking about. Any idea?"

Treize frowned and put on a thoughtful face then shook his head. "Sorry, I really don't know what he could have meant." he lied.

###

"How does this look?" Milliardo was posing for his lover in one of the new outfits he had bought earlier that afternoon.

Over the weekend Treize was going to an out of town conference which included a large dinner party, and he was going to accompany him. The seminar was actually going to last only one day, Friday, but they had decided to extend their stay on the West Cost until Sunday night, turning it into a mini vacation of sorts.

The professor, lounging on the brand new two-seater in their bedroom, looked up from the newspaper. "Yes, that's fine," he nodded, and with that his attention went back to the article he was reading.

The younger man frowned slightly as he walked back into the bathroom. Silently he stripped out of the white shirt and cream colored pants. As he reached for a pair of jeans that he had also bought a sly smirk suddenly crossed his face. He dropped the pants along with the boxes he was wearing and stepped back into the other room.

"How about this?" he asked in a low and husky voice, as he propped himself against the doorframe.

Treize gazed up briefly. "Very ni..." He had to do a double take, and then one of his eyebrows rose in surprise. "Dear, that's NOT what I was talking about when I said you look gorgeous no matter what you wear."

"Looks like I finally got your attention." Milliardo's voice was laced with a hint of sarcasm. "If I'd know that's what it takes to make you put that damn newspaper down, I'd have **started** in my birthday suit."

"I'm sorry," Treize smiled apologetic as he brushed aside the paper aside and rose to his feet. "I really wasn't paying much attention to you, was I?" He stepped closer, slipped one arm around his lover's waist pulling him against his body. As he dipped his head he whispered into the young man's ear. "Do you think you will be able to forgive me?"

"I'll have to think about it." Milliardo pulled away eliciting a groan of frustration mixed with disappointment from the other man. "You know, if you don't pay enough attention to me I might go find some somewhere else," he teased as he slipped back into his cargo pants, never even bothering with the underwear. "The sale guy at the department store seemed very, very interested."

Treize gave another groan, this time underlined with a good trace of jealousy. "Oh really?"

"I have been thinking of taking Cabal over to my parent's house tonight." Milliardo changed the subject suddenly, as he pulled on a clean T-shirt.

"I thought Relena was going to come and pick him up in the morning. You don't trust her?"

"No, far from it. My sister is the personification of reliability, but she still doesn't know about Alexander, and I would feel a lot better leaving in the morning and not having to worry of her coming here with nobody home but him."

"It's Alexander we are talking about, not Freddy Krueger." Treize pointed out.

"I know that, but I also remember the time the poor man from the gas company showed up. It's no big deal, I can take him over by myself if you are busy."

"No, I'll come."

###

"Hey, I' back!" Wufei dropped his gym bag next to the door and slipped off his shoes.

A duet of 'Hellos' echoed back at him from across the hall. As he stuck his head into the living room he found his housemates on the carpet in front of the TV playing a videogame.

"Sorry, practice ran late " he apologized. "I hope you didn't wait for me."

Wednesday was what Duo had come to call 'Family night'; an evening they'd spend together cooking and watching movies. It was Heero who came up with the idea, insisting that they would keep on eating way too much junk food until they learned to cook something decent. At first Wufei wasn't sure about the whole idea, but after two weeks he had to admit he was enjoying it.

"Don't worry," Heero looked back at him over his shoulder. "It's still early."

"Early enough that I still have time for a shower?"

"Go ahead."

Wufei had barely set a foot onto the stairs when the doorbell rung.

"I got it," he called out as he turned to open the door. "Hi there Trowa. What's up?"

"Hey," his friend greeted him with a nod. "Heero and Duo here too?"

"Guys!" Wufei called out. "Come here for a moment."

"It's alright, I was just wondering if the three of you wanted to come over; have some pizza, watch a movie..."

"Tonight?" Heero asked as he stepped out of the living room. At about the same moment the phone on the kitchen rung and Duo hollered that he had it.

"Umm... Yes, unless you got other plans already."

"Does it have to be over at your house?" Wufei asked. "I mean, why don't you guys come over here? We are going to make Italian and watch movies, too."

"Are you sure it is alright?"

"Absolutely." Heero confirmed. "Do you like Shrimp Scampi?"

"Love them," Trowa grinned. "How about if we bring dessert? Quatre just bought some gelato the other day."

"Sounds great; then we will see you in half an hour or so." Heero nodded.

"Half an hour it is," the other youth confirmed. "But do me a favor, will you? Don't tell Quatre that I was here asking."

"He doesn't know?" Wufei sounded surprised.

"He thinks I'm bringing the trash out. You see..." Trowa explained. "Quatre has been a little down since...the beginning of the week" He purposely avoided saying 'since they started digging up the well'. "Spending the evening together with you guys would be a welcome distraction. But of course he is just as stubborn as he is proud..." Trowa shrugged, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.

Both Heero and Wufei gave an understanding nod.

"No problem at all, as far as I am concerned this was all Duo's idea anyway. Duo!!"

"What?"

###

"Are you ready?" Milliardo was just turning off the TV when Treize came down the stairs. They had decided to take the dog over to the Peacecraft house and then grab some dinner on the way home.

"I'm ready." the younger man confirmed.

"Alexander!" The professor called out. "Did you say good bye to Cabal, we are leaving now."

"They just had another update about the investigation on the news." Milliardo gestured at the TV screen. "I wonder how Quatre and Trowa are dealing with those 'new developments'?"

"Which one?" Treize replied. "The identification of the remains as Trowa Barton's or the sheriff's theory that Mike killed his friend, dumped him and then made it appear that both of them ran away together."

"All of it I guess. Quatre seemed so convinced that it was Mike who was buried down there."

TBC

Author's Note:


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 17**

"...Sheriff what else can you tell us about the state of the investigation? Now that the identity of the remains is confirmed, will this change the way you are working on the case?..."

"...Was there an investigation when the two students disappeared, and what was the conclusion back then?..."

"...Can you tell us any more about the victim and his friend who is now suspected of murder?..."

Sheriff Bonaparte raised one hand to stop the onslaught of questions thrown in from all sides. "One person at a time, please. I'll try to answer as many question as possible, but I can't do that if everyone is talking at the same time. First off, let me clarify something... Although Michael Chapman is considered a suspect in the death of Trowa Barton, we are not calling him a **murder** suspect yet. The investigation is still in its early stages and until we definitely know how Mister Barton died there is always the possibility that his death was an accident or caused as a result of self defense."

"...I heard that it is assumed that Michael Chapman fled to Canada, are you working together with Canadian authorities to..."

At the first sound of footsteps on the stairs Trowa quickly turned off the TV. He had been watching the nightly news, which included a replay of the press conference Sheriff Bonaparte had given earlier that evening. The last thing he wanted was for Quatre to see the interview now.

"Are you not going to sleep yet?" His friend called out from the landing.

"I'll be right there. Just locking up everything."

Sleeping in the same room...same bed even... somehow seemed to calm Quatre's mind, letting him sleep without the terrible nightmares he had been having before. Trowa didn't really mind. But he wasn't sure what his employer, Quatre's father, would think about their new sleeping arrangements.

By the time he had made his usual security check, locked all the doors and set the alarm system Quatre was already in bed, sleeping. Or so he thought. Trowa didn't even bother turning on the light as he entered the bedroom. But when he slipped between the sheets the other youth stirred.

"I was watching it earlier... the sheriff's interview I mean. He is wrong."

"About what?"

"Everything. I refuse to believe that Mike would have done anything to harm Trowa. I realize, I only know them from my visions and what little information we have gathered from people who went to school with them, but I know they were the best of friends."

Trowa didn't say anything and after a long moment of silence Quatre continued to talk. "I don't believe that Mike is still alive either. After all, he is the one who has been pointing us to the well, and Trowa's body. I was so sure he would be down there too."

"Because you always have those visions of him drowning? Is it possible that those are Trowa's last moments you are reliving?"

Quatre shook his head as she moved closer. "No, I am sure those are Mike's feelings."

_I'm sorry. I can only imagine how terrible this must be for you. I wish there was something I could do._ Trowa reached out, wrapping his strong arm around the other youth's shoulder.

"Just being here is more than enough."

The look of surprise and guardedness on Trowa's face made the young man chuckle.

"Don't worry, I cannot read a person's mind. However, I have been lying in the dark long enough to be able to read that expression on your face. I have seen it too many times on my parents and siblings faces to know what it means. There is no reason to feel sorry for me, Trowa. I have come to see my ability as a gift rather than a curse, even if at times it can be somewhat bothersome."

"I'll try to remember that." Instinctively the young man tightened his embrace. Quatre did not resist but cuddled closer instead.

"I do appreciate your concern, though. By the way..." he suddenly changed the topic. "You never told me that Leia had a daughter." _In fact you didn't tell me much about her at all._

"Ah yes, Mariemaia. She is almost 4, I've only met her once. It's a long flight all the way from Germany, Leia doesn't come that often and since she had Marie even less."

"What about the father? I think I remember you mentioning she isn't married."

"No, I don't think she ever dropped his name. Not sure if he is still in the picture or if he even knows that he has a daughter. I guess you could call Leia somewhat of a free spirit; which is probably one reason why she left home right after school and moved to Europe. She spent a couple years in boarding school abroad and really liked it there."

In the dark Quatre could feel Trowa's shrug more than he saw it.

"By the way, don't be surprised when Leia calls me Triton."

"Actually, I was wondering about that," Quatre admitted. "You know, I like that name, Triton. Have you ever considered using it again...maybe after you turn 21, I mean."

"I don't know. I have been Trowa Barton longer than I have been Triton Bloom and a name really doesn't make that much of a difference."

"I guess you are right."

"Should we try to get some sleep now? We do have classes tomorrow morning," Trowa pointed out. "If you want I can turn on the TV; set it to some music channel or so."

"That's fine, thanks," Quatre shook his head. "I haven't had a nightmare since we have started sleeping in the same bed."

###

"Doctor Freeman?" The assistant held his step at the door of the autopsy room, waiting for the medical examiner to finish washing his hands over the large sink, and turn toward him.

"What is it Mister Carter?" Freeman threw a look at the clock up on the wall. It was almost midnight; an unusual time for most people to work, but not for him. He preferred, much to the dismay of his aides, to do his autopsies at night when the building was quiet and almost deserted. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I hope so, Sir. I was still cleaning and reassembling the bones of #72314, but...I think we have a problem."

"Oh? What kind of a problem?" The medical examiner asked as he put down the towel and reached for his comb to slick back his dark, slightly wavy hair.

"Would you please take a look at this bone. I believe it's a left clavicle."

"Let me see then." Freeman was a man in his mid 50, good looking and what most would consider a lady's man. Even down here, amongst the dead, his appearance and manners were always impeccable.

As the assistant handed him the thin, slightly curved bone he turned it over in his head, studying it for a moment, then nodded. "You are absolutely right, it's a left clavicle," he confirmed. "Problem solved?"

"Not really," the younger man replied. "You see, Doctor Freeman, I already have a left clavicle on the table."

The medical examiner frowned slightly. "Maybe the one on the table is the right one; an easy mistake to make."

"I don't think so, because I also have found the right clavicle."

His frown deepened as Freeman walked into adjacent examination room where subject 72314, the remains of a young male, recently unearthed from an old well, were being reassembled on one of the large metal tables. It only took him a few moments of examining the bones to determine: "You are correct, Mister Carter. We do have a problem, it seems."

"What would you like me to do with extra bone?"

The doctor thought about it for a moment. Until know they had been under the assumption that all the bones found came from one victim, but this new discovery meant they would have to completely retest the remains to make sure of that.

"Have you found any other additional bones?"

"No Sir, but as you can see I have not completely finished my work yet."

Freeman nodded. "Let's concentrate on doing that. I'll inform the sheriff about our find first thing in the morning."

####

_"Mister Chapman, please stay a moment. I have to talk to you." _

_Checking his watch the young man rolled his eyes before her turned to face his music teacher. "Professor, I have math class coming up and I really can't afford to be late again." _

_"It will be alright; this won't take long. And if you should be late by any chance I'll talk to Professor Carter myself." _

_"Fine," Mike finally shrugged as the last of his classmates shuffled past him outside. _

_Diciasetto waited until they were alone in the room. "You have plans for tonight?" he then asked. _

_"I do." the young man confirmed. _

_"Cancel them." _

_"What? Why?" _

_"Because you are going to have dinner with Paul Constantine. You are familiar with that name aren't you?" _

_"Umm...yes, of course." Constantine was a well known music producer from new York. His work was shown on Broadway and all over the world. "You have written music for him in the past haven't you?" _

_The Professor just nodded in confirmation. "He will be in town tonight, only tonight; passing through on his way to Los Angeles. He made reservations at 'Sambinos' for 6 o' clock. You know the place, don't you."_

_"I do." Mike confirmed. Although he had never been there, he had driven by the restaurant before. "But why... I don't understand..."_

_"I had Paul listen to some of your work and he was impressed," Diciasetto explained. "He wants to meet you. Don't be late. Remember, you'll never get a second chance you make a first impression."_

_"I will be there. Thank you, Professor." The young man couldn't believe his luck. A producer who liked his work and wanted to meet him, this was what he had dreamed of for a long time. _

_"One more thing." The professor pulled a large envelope from his brief case. "I was supposed to join the two of you; Paul and I always have dinner together when he is in town... but something came up and I won't be able to make it. Do me a favor and give him these sheets from me."_

_"Sure thing. More music you wrote?"_

_"Yes, Paul is putting together a new Broadway show and he asked me to come up with a few ideas for some songs."_

_"Wow, that sounds great. You think he might really be interested in some of my stuff?"_

_"You never know. But you'd better hurry now or you WILL BE late for class."_

_The young man nodded. "Right." _

_He grabbed the envelope with the sheet music as he left the music hall. But math class was the last thing on his mind right now. Instead he headed toward the athletics fields where he knew the football team and Trowa has practicing right now. He could not wait to tell his friend the news. _

Quatre woke slightly disoriented as always when he came out of a vision. It was like his mind needed a few moments to separate itself from the dream and return to reality. Besides him he could feel Trowa's warm body. The young man's deep and even breaths indicated that he was fast asleep. Without opening his eyes Quatre just lay there, trying to make sense of what he had just learned.

_Mike is telling me his story, one piece of a time. I thought he was done when we found that well and the body buried in it, but I guess I was wrong. As long as there are still missing pieces we can't see the whole picture..._

_I wish you would tell me more. _ The young man sighed as he finally squinted at the clock on his nightstand. It was only 2:20 in the morning. More than enough time to go back to sleep. He turned his head and smiled. Trowa's expression was so peaceful and perfectly relaxed. A few tresses of dark brown hair had fallen over his forehead, covering part of his beautiful face. His first impulse was to reach out and push them aside, but he stopped himself, knowing that his friend would probably wake if he did so.

After watching Trowa for a few more moments Quatre cuddled up again in his blankets and closed his eyes hoping that he would go back to sleep quickly.

_Taking another sip from his nearly empty beer glass Michael Chapman checked his watch for the third time in 10 minutes. It was twenty minutes after six and he was waiting for almost half an hour now. Dressed in his school uniform pants, matching tie and a brown sports coat - the one his mother insisted he should pack when he went off to school - he looked just as uncomfortable as he felt. He couldn't say that his surroundings made him feel any more at ease either._

_From across the room the _**_Maitre d was watching him carefully. By the expression on his face, from the turned up nose to the somewhat condescending look he had given him when he first entered the restaurant, he could tell the man didn't think he belonged here. _**

_Perhaps he was right. A posh restaurant like the 'Sambinos' wasn't exactly the place a college student would usually hang out. He had ordered a beer and an appetizer that cost more than a complete meal in most other eateries. Still, he hadn't even touched the food, feeling too nervous to eat anything right now. _

_His lips turned into a thin line as he remembered telling Trowa about his meeting with the music producer. For some reason his friend didn't seem as excited about it as he had hoped, pointing out there plans of going to Canada and he was already taken care of everything._

Don't you understand, Trowa? I don't need someone else to take care of things for me. I want to do it myself. So if I can sell a few of my songs before we leave, what's wrong with that?

_He could see the Maitre d take a phone call behind his station then slowly come over to his table. "Mister Chapman?" he asked in his slightly nasally voice._

_"Yes?"_

_"There is a call for you."_

_"Thanks." He followed the man to the other side of the room and picked up the receiver._

_"Hello? Michael Chapman here."_

_"Hello, this is Paul Constantine. How are you?"_

_Mike swallowed. _It's him... It's Constantine!_ Then he realized that something wasn't right, and for a moment he wondered if maybe he had gotten the restaurants mixed up. _But there was a table reserved here, so that can't be.

_"Fine thanks. How are you Mister Constantine?"_

_"I'm terribly sorry, but I am afraid our meeting tonight will have to be postponed. I'm still stuck in New York. The flight I was booked on got canceled. I have tried to make new arrangements, but no matter what, I won't make it in time to Los Angeles if I don't take a direct flight now."_

_"Don't worry about it. I'm sure you did your best."_

_"Let's have dinner next time I am in town. Maybe on my way back home from L.A. I can find time to stop by. I defiantly want to meet you."_

_"That sounds great. Looking forward to it." _

_"Again I am sorry. I really..."_

"Quatre, are you awake?"

Pulling his comforter over his head Quatre groaned in frustration. "No," he grumbled. "I'm still sleeping."

"Fine, keep sleeping. But do it at the breakfast table. Your eggs are getting cold."

"Breakfast?" The comforter flew aside as he bolted upright, bright awake in an instant. "It was my day to cook this morning, wasn't it?"

"Don't worry about it." Trowa laughed. "I was up anyway, and I don't mind, really. I'll leave the clean-up for you, though, if that makes you feel better." As he started to walk out of the bedroom the young man paused briefly at the door, just long enough to add: "Now hurry before I eat everything myself."

"We will see about that." Jumping out of bed, Quatre weaseled past his friend and down the stairs, wearing nothing but his pajama pants. Unlike Trowa who was already showered and dressed, he liked to take it slow and easy in the morning.

"I had another dream..." he told his friend moments later in the kitchen as he poured the coffee.

"Another nightmare?"

"No, another vision... or actually two."

* * *

TBC

Author's Note:


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

I guess you could call this a 'side-chapter' focusing on Treize and Milliardo on their little weekend trip out of town. **Happy 13x6 day!

* * *

**

**The Well**

**Chapter 18**

"How was the seminar?" Milliardo had been waiting outside the convention center for his lover. He was dressed in a pair of gray cargo pants and a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, while Treize looked like some kind of high priced lawyer in his dark suit and dress shirt.

"What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, I suppose." The older man sighed. "But how was your day, dear?"

"Great. I had fun."

"Oh good, nice to know at least one of us did. Alright, let's see if we can find a taxi. I really would like to get to the hotel and slip into something a little more comfortable... something like a hot tub maybe."

"Don't worry about the taxi; I already got us a ride."Milliardo gestured at a black town car parked across the street.

The limousine driver, taking the signal as his cue, started the car and came around to pick them up.

Treize raised one eyebrow curiously. "What's the special occasion?" he wanted to know.

"Does there have to be one? This is our special weekend and I have decided to spoil you a little."

"Well thank you. I appreciate it." the older man smiled softly.

"You are quite welcome."

The car pulled up at the curb right in front of them and the driver got out, sporting a black suit and tie and a dark cap on his head. With a polite greeting and a smile he bowed slightly as he opened the door for his passengers.  
The scene drew a bit of attention from the people still exiting the convention center. After all, this was a teachers conference not some kind of political event or Hollywood party where one would expect limousines and black ties.

With a courteous nod at the driver, the professor slipped into the back seat and held out his hand to assist his lover. Milliardo was smiling as they settled down next to each other, and finally took the opportunity to kiss Treize. He still was not comfortable enough to display his affection for the older man openly, even...or especially around strangers.

As the limousine pulled into the traffic lane the blonde pulled the curtains on both sides and turned on the overhead light, earring himself another raised eyebrow from his lover.

"What? I just want to make it a little more...cozy." he replied with a shrug. "So, you really are okay with not going to tonight's dinner party?"

"Absolutely." Treize confirmed. It had only been this morning on the plane that Milliardo had told him he really didn't like parties of this kind, and asked if it was possible to skip the event. He was more than happy to agree because he had only accepted the invitations for his lover's sake, because he didn't want Milliardo to think he did not want to take him out in public. "I just feel bad because you even bought a new outfit for the party."

"So? Doesn't mean I can't wear it, right? I wasn't planning on spending the weekend at a nudist colony."

"Well, that's good then, because I gave our invitations to a couple of college from Utah already. Apparently their school didn't get any."

"Oh great, then I hope you don't mind that I made some other plans for us?" Milliardo asked.

"Not at all."

About ten or fifteen minutes into the ride Treize pushed aside one of the curtains to peek outside. "This isn't the way to the hotel." he declared, a slight hint of surprise in his voice.

"Not to the hotel we checked into the morning." his the younger man confirmed.

The professor smirked. "What's going on? Am I being kidnapped?"

"Would you like to be kidnapped?" Milliardo returned the question slyly.

"By you, any day! So, what exactly are those plans you have made? Are you going to keep me looked up as your sex slave for the rest of the weekend?"

The blonde grinned. "Darn, why didn't I think of **that**? Well, maybe next time."

Treize laughed, it was a low and smooth sound. "Do I get at least a clue or two as to where you are taking me?"

"Sorry, but we are fresh out of clues. You will just have to be patient."

"You enjoying this, don't you?" the professor huffed.

"Immensely." Milliardo smirked as he reached out and pulled at the other man's tie. "Why don't you take this thing off, and your jacket as well. Our weekend has officially begun, you know."

"Just the tie and jacket?"

"Well, let's get started with the tie and jacket."

Treize gave another laugh. "As you wish."

###

After a good hour or so the town car stopped. Milliardo had made sure the older man didn't take more than just an occasional look out of the window during their ride. So all Treize could tell was that they weren't in the city anymore. But when the driver opened the door to let them out, his jaw nearly dropped. It wasn't a hotel he was standing in front, or even a little countryside Bed and Breakfast, but a large, white, ultra-modern, ultra-stylish... designer mansion. Yes, that was probably the best description for the house.

"What is this?" He fully climbed out of the limo to look around, then turned his head toward Milliardo who was following.

"Nice, isn't it?"

"Nice? I don't know if nice even begins to describe it. Don't tell me you secretly bought another property."

The younger man laughed. "Unfortunately this place isn't for sale. But the owner rents it out on a weekly or daily basic. Mostly to tourists." "What do you think?"

"You mean, you rented the place?" Treize still seemed in disbelieve.

"Ah huh," his lover nodded. He turned to pay for the limousine, gave the driver a generous tip and reminded him when to be back on Sunday to take them back to the airport.

As he pulled out the house keys and dangled them in front of his lover's face, Milliardo's smile turned into a smirk. "There is a hot tub... in the garden, complete with waterfall. Wanna see?"

"By all means."

When they headed down the palm tree lined walkway toward the front entrance, Treize could hear the limousine drive off. "What about our luggage?" he asked with a look over his shoulder.

"Nothing to worry about," Milliardo assured him. "I had everything sent here earlier when I came by to meet with the realtor to get the keys. I also stocked the fridge and... drumroll... I heated the spa."

Treize laughed. "You thought of everything, didn't you?"

"I try. But you haven't heard **everything** yet."

"What else could there possible be; a dozen male strippers waiting in the hot tub?"

"Hey." Scowling Milliardo nudged his lover with his elbow. "What do you need a dozen stripper for if you have me?"

"To compare their imperfect bodies with your flawless beauty and remember what a lucky man I am having you in my life, of course." the other man replied without even losing a beat.

The blonde snorted. "Someone who can lie like that without even turning red should have become a politician, not a teacher." He unlocked the door, opening it wide, like an invitation to step in. A fresh and cool breeze welcomed the two men, indicating that Milliardo had not only turned on the spa earlier, but the air conditioning as well.

###

"This is heaven." Treize moaned in delight and closed his eyes, as he slowly reclined until he was almost completely immersed in the warm water. The hot tub was set into natural stone and blended perfectly with the rest of the backyard design. The gentle sound of the waterfall mixed with the soft music coming from the stereo system. "What do you think Alexander would say if we told him he can keep the house, we are not coming home."

"I don't know," Milliardo chuckled. He was basking, shirtless and dressed in a pair Hawaiian style trunks, in one of the white wicker recliners near the pool, enjoying the last rays of the warm evening sun. "He might actually find a way to track us down and follow."

"Oh yes, I wouldn't put that past him."

"Besides, like I said, this place isn't for sale."

"My dear Milliardo," the professor replied in his best lecturing voice. "For the right price, **everything** is for sale. But what would we do when we get bored of it? I mean **this** is hard to top."

"Hmm," the younger man grunted in agreement; too lazy to talk.

"By the way you never told me what else you have planned for the weekend."

"Oh right." Milliardo yawned as he sat up, swinging his long legs over the side of the recliner. "Look to your right, far in the distance. What do you see?"

"Hmm...Hills?"

"Alright. And what do you see on those hills?"

"Grass...no some plants...some kind of orchard?"

"A vineyard actually," the younger man corrected. "One of the largest ones in the area in fact. They are famous for their Cabernet Sauvignon. Remember my father gave us a crate for Christmas."

"Ah yes, I loved that one," Treize confirmed. "And that's the vineyard where it came from? They probably have some kind of gift shop. We will have to see if we can buy some more of it, I don't think we have more than one or two bottles left."

"Hold on, I wasn't finished. I heard they have some limited edition wines reserved for tasting, and sale at their own restaurant only. I thought you might like to try them, so I made dinner reservations for us for tomorrow night. What do you think?"

"That sounds fabulous. I can't wait." the older man smiled. "Speaking of which... how much longer do I have to wait for you to join me?"

His lover gave an amused huff . "Impatient, aren't we?"

"That's me." The professor confirmed with a smirk. "Patience has never been my strong side, you should know that by now. Come on, the water is perfect."

With another snort Milliardo strolled over to the hot tub, dipping one of his toes cautiously into the water before finally slipping into the little pool. Treize extended his hand toward the younger man, and when Milliardo took it, he pulled the blonde into his arms, covering those satin-soft lips tenderly with his own. Milliardo closed his eyes with a soft moan. His lips parted invitingly as he melted into the sweetness of his lover's kiss. His tongue met Treize's as they fought for domination in the hot cavern of his mouth. When lack of air finally forced them to break their kiss both men were panting breathlessly.

"I think," Treize whispered softly into the blonde's ear. "I could come up with a few ideas of my own how we could spend our time this weekend."

Milliardo laughed. "Would I be far off to assume that those 'ideas' would have us occupy the bedroom or hot tub most of the weekend."

"Not too far," his lover grinned.

###

For a restaurant tugged into the country side between a couple of vineyards and horse ranch the 'La Vie en Rose' seemed a lot classier and more popular than Treize had imagined. When the taxi dropped them off at the curbside he counted at least a dozen people waiting outside, and he was glad that they had reservation.

"Oh man, something smells awesome. What is that; a BBQ?" Milliardo held his step to soak in the smoky aroma in the air.

"A French restaurant next to a horse ranch. Be careful, you never know what you might get," the older man whispered into his ear, earning himself a elbow in the ribs and a sharp look from his lover.

"Treize!"

"What?" he protested innocently, massaging his side as he followed his lover into the restaurant.

"We have reservations, the name is Peacecraft." Milliardo told the maitre de who was greeting the patrons.

"Ah yes," the man confirmed after a look into his book. "This way please, Mister Peacecraft."

Their table was located in the back of the restaurant from where they had a good view of the rest of the room. The place was full, but the tables were place far enough apart to not make it seem crowded. Their waiter showed up a few minutes later with the wine list and two glasses of water.

"Can I interest you in a glass of our wine of the day?" he asked.

"Actually," Treize replied, looking up from his menu, "We were thinking of trying a few of your house labels."

"I see, in that case may I suggest our international sampler dinner? You will get a try six of our best wines. We serve them with an appetizer consisting of French cheeses paired with our local, seasonal fruits. For an Entree you will get two wood grilled Kobe steaks served on a bed of porcini risotto, and for dessert a large piece of Black Forest cake for sharing."

"That sounds great, doesn't it?" Milliardo looked up at his companion. "What do you think?"

"It does sound delicious," Treize agreed, but he just couldn't help himself and had to add. "Are you sure the meat is really Kobe beef, though?"

Of course the waiter didn't quite get the joke, but he assured them that the beef came directly from Japan, just as all their other items were flown in freshly.

"We will go with your suggestion," Milliardo told the man, while kicking his lover under the table. _Will you stop it?_

"Very good choice, Sir. I'll be back shortly."

#

Dinner was, in every sense of the word a complete success. The appetizer were great, the steaks cooked to perfection and the Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte moist and creamy. Each of the wines they tried had a very distinctive flavor, and although they were similar not two of them tasted alike. Even Milliardo, who was not much of a wine drinker at all, could tell the difference. All in all the two men had a wonderful time.

When Treize refilled their glasses he raised his for a toast. "To a fantastic evening, and to you for making it possible."

Milliardo shook his head, laughing. "No, not just an evening. To a fantastic... ghost-free weekend."

The older man chuckled. "Ah yes, of course."

"Is there anything else I can get you?" the waiter asked as he came to retrieve the empty dessert dishes.

Treize gave his lover a questioning look.

"Not for me, thanks. I'm fine."

The professor nodded in agreement. "I think we are ready for the check. And could you call us a taxi as well."

"I'll be happy to, Sir," the waiter replied.

Sure enough, the cab was waiting outside by the time they left the 'La Vie en Rose'. Treize could imagine there was a long standing arrangement between the taxi company and the restaurant, considering that most of the customer came here for the wine.

#

A few minutes into the ride Milliardo, who had been looking out of the window until now, all of a sudden leaned against his lover's body, resting his head on Treize's shoulder. "I think... I'm a little tipsy," he sniggered.

The older man laughed softly. "I would say you are past just 'a little' tipsy, dear. But I am not surprised. You drank every glass of wine we tasted."

"I wasn't supposed to?" Milliardo crooked his head to look up at him.

"Not the whole glass."

"Hmm..." the young man looked thoughtful for a brief moment, then shrugged. "Oh well."

Treize gave an amused huff. "I hope you feel that way when you wake up tomorrow morning."

"If I don't, I am sure you will take good care of me." Milliardo smirked.

"Don't I always?" the professor smiled softly as he placed a soft kiss onto his forehead. He could imagine that Milliardo didn't even realize that he had too much to drink until the cool night air hit him

"You do. Thanks."

The ride was only a short one and within no time the two men found themselves outside their little - or not so little- weekend retreat. After taking care of the taxi fare Treize caught up with his lover who seemed to be having trouble unlocking the door.

"Let me," he offered.

"I want to go in the hot tub." Milliardo declared as they finally entered the house.

"Not tonight anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why? I'm not going to drown or anything. If you want I'll hold on to you, really tight." the young man smirked slyly and for a moment his lover wondered if he really was as tipsy as it seemed.

"How about tomorrow? We are not leaving until the evening. I think for tonight we could just sit on the patio for a while.

"Alright. Let's do that."

Treize blinked. That was almost too way. He had expected at least a little more arguing.

"I think I'll make some coffee, do you want some?"

"Maybe one cup, thanks. I'll go ahead outside. Don't make me wait too long."

"I won't." the professor promised as he watched his lover cross the living room and disappear into the backyard through the large slide glass door.

He went into the kitchen to get the coffee ready, and once he machine was running Treize decided to check on Milliardo to see how he was doing. He was somewhat surprised to find him sitting, not on the patio but on the lawn below.

With his legs crossed the young man was leaning back onto his stretched out arms looking up into the sky. He dropped his head back, gazing upside down at his lover.

"Come here, sit down," he demanded. "It's nice."

"You are sitting in the grass, dear." Treize pointed out.

"So?"

"You are going to get stains in your pants..." _and so will I._

"So?" Milliardo repeated. "Isn't that what they invented drycleaners for?"

_Do grass stains even come out of this fabric?_ The older man sighed inwardly as he hesitantly stepped closer.

"Come on."

Reaching up the blonde tugged on his pant leg and Treize finally gave in, settling down next to him on lawn.

Above the hills the last rays of the slowly setting evening sun were painting streaks of red and orange across the horizon. The air had cooled but not to the point that it became uncomfortable to be outside. The birds hadn't finished their evening concert yet, and somewhere in the distance a few crickets joined in every now and then.

"See it's nice." Milliardo remarked, leaning against him.

"It is," Treize admitted as he slipped his arm around his lover's waist. "Very nice, indeed, and very peaceful. We should do this more often, drive out of town for the weekend I mean."

* * *

TBC

Author's Note:


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 19**

The TV was running when Trowa came downstairs, his hair still damp from the shower he just had taken. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a light blue dress shirt that Quatre had picked out for him a few days earlier when they went shopping together.

It wasn't even 2:30. Leia's flight wasn't scheduled to come in until 4; which meant he didn't have to leave for the airport for another hour or so.

Quatre was sitting on the couch, knees drawn up against his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His brows were pulled together in an irritated expression as he watched the TV.

"Are you cold?" The bodyguard asked. "Should I turn up the heat?"

"I'm fine," came the somewhat grumpy answer, and Trowa sighed.

"Why do you keep watching this stuff anyway if you know it upsets you?" He gestured toward the newscast running on the screen.

Quatre shrugged as he reached for the remote and muted the TV. "I am not upset, just frustrated," he clarified. "I was hoping there might be some real news. But," he stretched his legs and reached for one of the couch pillows. "...all they do is just theorizing about what might have happened. Sounds to me like they already tried and prosecuted Mike without even knowing all the facts. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

"You are still convinced that Mike had nothing to do with Trowa's death?"

"Sounds like you aren't."

"Actually I am trying to keep an open mind, in spite of the evidence..."

"What **evidence**?" the blonde snapped.

Trowa gave another inward sigh but didn't answer. _Let's hope this isn't turning into yet another argument. _He knew it was selfish but sometimes he wished Quatre would have never set foot into that house on Manor Terrace. Things would have been so much easier...

"Seriously, do you really believe that Mike was the kind of person who would kill his best friend in cold blood."

"No! I never say that. " The answer came quick and with conviction.

Quatre blinked more than just a little surprised. "Then what exactly are you saying?"

"I think that it quite possibly could have been an accident." Trowa gathered up a couple of magazines from one of the armchairs, tossing them onto the coffee table before sitting down.

The other youth frowned. "You don't hit someone over the head hard enough to scramble his brain by accident," he pointed out.

"Probably not." Trowa admitted. "But somebody could accidentally hit his head or get struck by some falling object hard enough to cause serious damage," he countered. "Mike was under a lot of pressure and Trowa was known for his temper. So best friends or not; a scuffle or fight could have broken out between them."

"If that was the case wouldn't you think Mike would have tried to help his friend...called an ambulance or something, instead of just running away?"

The brunette shrugged. "Maybe Trowa was beyond help. Maybe Mike thought nobody would believe that it was an accident. I didn't say I had all the answers, did I?"

There was a long moment of silence as Quatre pondered his friend's hypothesis. _An accident rather than murder? Maybe that would explain the feelings of guilt I'm sensing . _"But... There is just one big hole in your theory. It supposes that Mike didn't die. However, I know that he is dead.

"Oh I am pretty sure about that too." Trowa admitted. "It's just that we have no idea when and where he actually died. A lot of things can happen in 30 years."

"Maybe." Quatre still didn't sound completely convinced, but he told himself that if Trowa was keeping an open mind he should at least try to do the same.

Trowa checked his watch. And when he looked back up his eyes caught the TV screen and the 'Breaking News' sign flashing across it.

"Quatre, turn up the sound, quick.." he demanded.

"Huh?" The other youth gave a surprised grunt even as he complied.

"...just came in according to a confidential source at the medical examiner's office. While identifying the remains of what is now been confirmed as Trowa Barton, a former Marymount College student who disappeared 30 years ago, more bones have been discovered that appear to belong to a second body..." the reporter on the screen announced before the picture cut to footage taken while Trowa's remains were unearthed. "This rather unexpected development certainly raises a lot of questions. How many more bodies might there be? Could the police possibly have stumbled onto the burial site of a serial murderer? Or perhaps a college prank or hazing gone too far? Again..." The reporter appeared back on the screen. "For those who have just tuned in... In an unexpected twist, the mystery deepens as additional body parts have been found in..."

"Unexpected my ass." Quatre killed the sound once again and glared at the TV screen.

"I'm sorry." Trowa offered. "I suppose I should not have doubted you."

The blonde shook his head. "To be honest," he admitted. "For a while there, in the back of my mind I doubted myself."

Trowa had pulled out his phone and was searching through the address book. "I'm sorry anyway."

"Who are you calling?"

"Sheriff Bonaparte of course. I'd like to know what's going on here. When he promised to keep us informed I expected to hear about any new developments from him not some TV broadcast.""

At first the line was busy and Trowa had to try several times before he finally got through.

"Yeah?"

"Sheriff, it's Trowa Barton." He switched to speaker phone so that his friend could listen to the conversation.

"Oh wow, I was just dialing your number when you called. I take it you have been watching TV?"

"We have," the young man confirmed. "Do you mind explaining what's going on? Since when did you know about this so-called 'unexpected development'?"

"Dr. Freeman called me this morning to inform me that they had found a few bones not belonging to the first skeleton. We decided that it was premature to make an official announcement. " The sheriff explained. "Of course you would have been the first I would have contacted once we were able to actually sort things out. I have no idea who spilled the beans to the press." Bonaparte gave a grim grunt. "But if I find out we might have another murder in this town."

"So, do those bones belong to Mike Chapman?" Trowa wanted to know.

"We are not sure yet. I ordered a DNA test but that will take time, and of course we will need something to compare it against. First thing tomorrow we will head back to Manor Terrace and resume digging for the rest of the body. But first.." The sheriff sighed. "There is something I have to take care off. Something I am not looking forward to."

"Talk to Mister Chapman's parents?" Trowa guessed.

Another sigh came through the line. "I tried speaking to them last week..."

"I suppose your suggestion that their son might have had something to do with Barton's death didn't get over so well. I can't say that surprises me," the younger man admitted. "But in the end I am sure they want to do whatever it takes to find out what happened to their son. Which reminds me, Sheriff... My sister is coming into town today. I imagine that she will want to meet with you to talk."

"Yes, of course. Just make sure to call beforehand and set up an appointment with my secretary. I am in and out of the office these days."

"Will do. Good bye for now."

Trowa hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket before checking his watch again.

"You got to go soon?"

"In about 15 minutes," he confirmed. "You sure you don't want to come along?"

"I told you already I promised Duo to come over to study with him. Let me call him now to make sure he is home." Quatre replied. "Nice shirt by the way."

"Yeah?" the other youth smiled softly. "Someone who told me the color suits me picked it out for me."

###

"Triton?"

He recognized the voice at once even though it had been years since they had talked face to face. And as he turned toward from where the voice had come he also recognized her instantly.

"Leia. I thought you were supposed to arrive at gate 3."

She shrugged as she stopped a few feet in front of him and set down her carryon bag. "Do those flights ever arrive where they are supposed to?"

"I suppose not." Trowa reached out to take her bag. "You got any other luggage?"

"One suitcase. I wasn't sure what I would need while I was here."

As they started to walk toward the baggage claim area she crooked her head and eyed him from the side. "Look at you, college life seems to become you. But say, are you ever going to stop growing or are you just planning to go on until you hit the roof?"

"I haven't decided yet," he smirked.

"Now there is something I'd never thought I'd see. You've learned to smile."

"Amongst other things," he replied before changing the subject. "How is Mariemaia?"

"Growing up way too fast. She is four now, going on 14." Leia grinned. "She probably will be driving Grandma and grandpa crazy."

"I don't think Mom and Dad will mind. I'm sure they can use the distraction right now. How are they anyway?"

"Mom has taken it hard. But I have a feeling they had expecting this kind of news for a long time. - There is my bag." Leia gestured toward a brown leather suitcase slowly moving past them on the conveyer belt, and Trowa stepped forward to grab it before it could move out of reach.

"This way to the car."

There was a long moment of silence as they headed toward the parking garage until Leia asked. "Mom and Dad asked about you. I know I am not one who should be talking but when was the last time you went home?"

Trowa hesitated. "I have...been busy," he finally replied evasively. "But I suppose I could make some time over the next break or so."

"I'm sure they would appreciate it."

###

"Take that... and that! Now who is eating dirt, huh?"

"Just wait until I upgrade my machine gun, then we will see who has the last laugh."

Heero raised one eyebrow as he walked into the living room to find his lover and Quatre on the floor in front of the big screen TV, absorbed in a game of Fortune Soldiers. "What exactly is it you are studying for? I think I might take that class next semester."

"Studying? It's Sunday," Duo replied as he dropped his empty magazine and reloaded his gun. "Didn't you know that physical and mental labor on Sunday is against Quatre's religion."

"Oh?" The young man frowned slightly. "I didn't realize you were religious, Quatre."

"Neither did I." The blonde smirked. "You want to play?"

"Maybe later. I promised Wufei that I would pick him up at school."

"But I thought they won't be back until six."

"Precisely. It's twenty to six now; I won't make it if I don't leave soon."

"Are you serious?" Quatre checked his watch. "Wow, where did the time go? Trowa is probably back by now. I better head home, too."

"Oh come on," Duo complained. "Let's at least finish this level."

"Alright," his friend agreed. "I can do that. But don't you still have to go check on Milliardo's house?"

The braided young man shook his head, his eyes never leaving the screen. "We already went earlier this morning. Besides Treize and Milliardo are coming home tonight anyway."

"Oh Heero...?"

The young man was just about to walk out of the room when Quatre stopped him.

"Yes?" He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder.

"Who do you call when you have computer problems? And don't say 'Geeky Guys' I was on the phone with them for an hour yesterday."

"Actually I do my own repairs and upgrades. What's your problem?"

"USB ports. I was having trouble uploading some pictures from my digital camera the other day. Had to plug it in and unplug it half a dozen times before it worked. And this morning it wouldn't read my USB stick at all. I have all my lecture notes on that thing which I need for my next assignment."

"Hmm." Heero gave a thoughtful grunt. "You sure it's not the drive itself?"

"Pretty sure." Quatre nodded. " It works on Trowa's laptop. But I hate having to bother him."

The other youth nodded understandingly. "How about if I come by tomorrow after school and take a look?"

"Would you? Thanks."

"No problem. Can't promise I'll be able to fix it, though."

"Alright, can we go back to playing now?" Duo grumbled impatiently. "My mercenaries will die of old age before we get this level finished."

"Can't have that happen now, can we?" Quatre laughed. "Although, as slow as they are moving you might want to check if they are still alive to begin with."

The braided young man huff. "They are fast enough for you any day."

###

"I'm home." Quatre announced as he walked through the front door a few minutes after six.

"Welcome back. We are in the living room." Trowa's voice reached him through the open door.

He slipped off his shoes, pushing them under them against the wall before he entered the room. Trowa was sitting on the couch and in the armchair to his left a young woman with full and wavy light-brown hair. She looked up and gave him a soft smile.

"Quatre," Trowa introduced. "Meet Leia Barton. Leia, this is my roommate Quatre Winner."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." He gave her a polite nod. "I just wish it could have been under different circumstances."

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you too." Leia rose to her feet to offer him her hand. "Triton told me it was thanks to you that my brother's remains were discovered."

"Well, it's a rather complicated story but essentially yes." He replied as he settled down in the other armchair. "I'm sorry if that destroyed any hope you might have had of still finding your brother alive."

"Oh no," Leia shook her head. "I think we realized a long time ago that there could be only one reason why Trowa never contacted us in all these years. Not knowing what happened to him was the worst part. Now that we can finally lay him to rest my parents might be able to find some degree of closure and move on."

"In that case I am glad I could help." Quatre smiled awkwardly, and then there was a long pause until Trowa changed the subject.

"How did your studies go with Duo?"

"Pretty well. I've learned quite a bit."

The bodyguard frowned slightly. "I thought **you** were tutoring **him**."

"Well, you know what they say." Quatre grinned cheekily. "You can't teach somebody without learning a little bit yourself. So, are we still going out for dinner or will we be eating in tonight?"

"I made reservations at 'Rosa's'. We were just waiting for you."

"Oh, then let me just throw on a different shirt. I'll be ready in 5."

###

"You know," Treize announced as he pulled his car into the parking spot across the Victorian style house he and Milliardo called home, "this morning I felt like I could have done with another day or two of vacation, but now I am actually glad to be home again."

"Yep," the younger man agreed. "feels nice." He took off his seatbelt and climbed out of the Mercedes while his fiancé popped open the trunk.

A few minutes later the two men stepped through the front door and put down their overnight bags in the hall.

"Well, at least he didn't change the keys on us while we were gone." the blonde joked, and Treize chuckled.

"I wouldn't have put it past him. But it seems like he was actually looking forward to seeing us again." He gestured through the open door into the living room where a bouquet of roses was decorating the coffee table. The flowers looked like they had been freshly cut in the garden.

Milliardo exchanged a soft smile with the older man. "Alexander, we are home."

Moments later they could feel their 'housemate' sweeping down the stairs to greet them. Milliardo's smile deepened as he felt the by now familiar sensation of ghostly finger's ruffling his hair. "Yes, I am happy to see you too."

"I hope you enjoyed your quiet weekend," his fiancé added. "By the way we took lots of pictures for you on our trip."

"Treize," the younger man suggested. "Let's not go out for dinner tonight."

"Oh? You got any better idea?"

"In fact I do. Let's pick up Cabal, grab some take-out on the way back and then spend a quiet evening at home, just the four of us. What do you think?"

"I think it's a fabulous idea, Dear." Treize smiled. "Let's go right now, before we even settle down. We can call your parents from the car and tell them we are on the way." He reached out to pick up the cardkeys he had just hung onto the key holder next to the door, then hesitated for a moment and turned his head to the left where he could feel his great-grandfather's presence.

"Alexander... would you like to come along?"

The sudden and strong gust of air rushing past him and up the stairs caused Milliardo to take an involuntary step backward. The two men looked at each other in surprise.

"I think you scared him."

But then as fast as he had disappeared Alexander was back, and Treize has to react quickly to catch the diary the ghost tossed at him. Exchanging another gaze with Milliardo the tawny haired man chuckled.

"No, I believe that was just his way of saying 'I thought you would never ask'."

By then Alexander had already opened the front door and was on his way outside.

"Are you sure he is ready?" Milliardo asked quietly.

Treize gave a little shrug. "He seems to think so, and that's what counts, doesn't it?"

* * *

TBC

Author's Note:


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.  
_

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 20**

"Thanks for lunch." Leaning over to the driver side, Treize emphasized his words with a brief but affectionate kiss before climbing out of Milliardo's car.

"You are quite welcome," the other man smiled. "I'll see you tonight."

These little 'lunch dates' on Mondays, when the professor had two free periods mid-day, had become somewhat like a little tradition between them.

With a last look back over his shoulder Treize watched his lover drive off. As far as he knew Milliardo was going to drive to Manor Terrace to see how things were proceeding there. They had learned last night that the police was going to continue their excavations. This time the sheriff had sealed off the entire backyard forcing Milliardo to reschedule some of the construction work he had planned for the week.

The professor had almost crossed the main parking lot when he noticed a young woman who seemed to be lost. She was looking around as though unsure where to go. From what he could tell she was a little too old to be a Marymount student. Her brown hair was wavy and reached just to her shoulder; Her stylish, dark blue pant suit gave her a professional yet still very feminine appearance.

_Perhaps a new teacher or staff member_, he wondered as he slowly approached her. _Did anyone mention anything about someone starting a new job this week?_

The woman was standing with her back to him, and Treize cleared his throat. "Ma'am?"

She looked over her shoulder then turned as she realized he was talking to her. "Yes?" An expression of surprise suddenly crossed her face. "Treize?"

His brows furrowed slightly then recognition hit and his jaw nearly dropped. "Leia... Leia Barton?"

"What are you doing here?"

"That was going to be my next question. But since you beat me to it... I work here. I teach history."

"Here at Marymount? When did you leave the military?"

"Almost a year ago now. I was never allowed to return to active duty after I was released from the hospital. I figured if I have to sit behind a desk I might as well do it someplace of my choosing. Well, and the rest is history as they say. No pun intended. But what about you? When did you move back to the States?"

"Oh, I didn't. I still live in Germany; but there is something I have to take care of. A family matter. I am supposed to meet my... umm... brother here. You might know him as..."

"...Trowa Barton, of course." Treize completed the sentence as realization suddenly struck.

"You DO know him then?"

"He is one of my students," the professor confirmed. "As well as a... personal friend. I take it then that the 'family matter' you were referring to has to do with your real brother. Please accept my condolences."

"Thank you," she nodded. "So you know about that too?"

"Not too many people around here don't know about it," he replied somewhat evasively. "If there is anything I can do to help...?"

"There might be. If you could just point me in the direction of the student parking lot."

"I can do even better. Let me show you were Trowa parks his car. This way."

"Thanks."

She fell into step beside him and neither of them spoke as they crossed the campus.

The professor crooked his head slightly as he gazed at her from the side. _How long has it been; 4 no almost 5 years. She hasn't changed at all. People often say that when they meet again after a long time. But in her case it is the truth. She looks just as she did the first time I saw her._

Of course back then she had been wearing the powder blue outfit of an ICU nurse. Her face was the first thing he saw after he woke up from surgery; hovering over his bed like an angel of mercy. In fact it was the first thing he really remembered after his unit was caught in that ambush.

"What?" She looked at him questioningly.

"Ah, nothing." He smiled softly. "Say do you still remember the day we met at St. Martin's?"

"How could I not." She huffed in amusement. "You were the worse patient I ever had.

"Ouch!" He tried to look hurt but didn't quite manage. "Yet you still continued to visit me even after I had left the intensive care. And you indulged my little whims by sneaking food and even a bottle of wine into my room."

"I suppose I felt sorry for you. Besides I was afraid you might sneak out to the store on your own if I didn't," she chuckled.

"Oh? Does that mean when I asked you out to dinner it was nothing but a pity date either?"

"No, that dinner I more than deserved for keeping up with your... not so little whims."

Treize gave a deep and bubbling laugh. _Oh yes, she definitely hasn't changed. I do remember that sharp tongue quite well. _

"My apologies," he offered with a smirk. "Well, here we are. The black Mercedes over there is Trowa's. No one here; you didn't miss each other, I hope."

"No, actually I am early." Leia checked her watch. "Class isn't out until 1:15 from what I understand. But I took the bus; the next one wouldn't have made it in time."

"In that case..." The professor suggested after a quick gaze at his own watch. "...can I buy you something to drink? There is a little coffee shop right around the corner."

For a moment it seemed like she was trying to think of a reason to recline his invitation. But in the end she nodded. "Why not. It's just a coffee, right?"

#

A few minutes later they were sitting at a table at the tiny campus coffee shop. Treize had ordered a Cappuccino and she was drinking a Slim Latte.

"Are you sure this is alright?" She asked with a nondescript gesture. "It won't interfere with your teacherly duties?"

"Nothing to worry," he assured her. "I don't have another class until 1:45."

"Then tell me, Treize... or is it Professor Khushrenada now?"

"Only my students call me Professor. Treize will do just fine, unless you would like me to address you as Nurse Leia."

"Well then, Treize what else is new; aside from you changing jobs I mean? No family yet? I don't see a ring on your finger."

"No ring **yet**," he replied with a soft, meaningful smile.

"Oh? Congratulations. Does this mean you have set a date already?"

"We are aiming for next summer, but I'll leave the final decision to him."

"Him?"

Treize took a sip from his cappuccino before he nodded. "His name is Milliardo Peacecraft. I met him shortly after moving here. But you don't sound too surprised."

She gave a short, amused laugh. "While you were at the hospital you flirted with each and every staff member. One would have had to be blind not to noticed you didn't exactly discriminate between male and female nurses."

"Ouch again. And I was sure I was being discreet." His eyes sparkled with mirth.

She huffed again as she raised her cup to her lips.

"But enough about me. What about you? I don't see a ring on your finger either. Does that mean you are still single?"

"Single yes," she confirmed after a cautious sip. "But not alone."

"Oh?"

"And of course, I too changed jobs."

"Yes, so I've noticed." There was the tiniest hint of bitterness in his voice. "And your job wasn't the only thing you changed." He had tried calling her only a few days after they went out for dinner and ended up spending more than just a pleasant evening together, only to find out that the number she had given him had been disconnected. And when he contacted the hospital he learned that she wasn't working there anymore either.

Leia sighed quietly as she put down her cup. "Truth to be told I was pretty sure you didn't mean it when you told me you would call."

"What made you think that?"

"Well I don't know; maybe the fact that you waited until the day you finished rehabilitation to ask me out."

"Maybe it just took me that long to master the courage."

"Right."

"Alright, maybe not," he admitted. "But I figured what if you would have said 'No' it would have made things a little awkward afterward. But you didn't say 'No'. And I thought the fact that we ended up spending the night together had to mean something."

"If you are asking if I had the hots for you; god did I ever. But let's face it; neither of us was ready for a relationship then. You can believe me or not, but I had requested my transfer to Reihnsburg long before we met. And that I had to leave the day after we went out together was nothing but pure coincident."

"You could have told me about it."

"What would have mattered? You were going home anyway the following week."

"I suppose you are right," he admitted with a wry smile. "But it **was** a huge blow to my ego."

"Can you forgive me?"

"I might, if you'd agree to go out with me for dinner one more time. ... Dinner only I promise."

"I might be able to fit it into my schedule. But now I'd better leave or I'll really be late. Thanks for the coffee."

"My pleasure."

As the professor rose to his feet Leia suddenly leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, earning herself a puzzled look.

"What was that for?"

"A little kiss always seems to make a bruise heal quicker," she smirked. "I'm not sure if it also works for bruised egos, but I thought it was worth a try." With a wave back in his direction she turned. "Call me; you know where I am staying, right?"

###

Duo Maxwell thoughtfully eyed the little coffee shop as he and his lover crossed the plaza.

"Wanna grab something to drink?" he asked. "My treat."

"Trowa and Quatre are waiting for us," the other youth pointed out.

"It won't take long."

"Fine, I'll text them and see if they want something too."

As Heero pulled out his phone and started to punch in his message, he changed directions, following Duo toward the coffee shop.

The shop's full size window front allowed a clear look inside. As usually at this time of the day, the line at the counter was long and getting longer by the minute as dozens of caffeine starved students, following the smell of their favorite beverages, shuffled toward the venue like zombies.

Duo pushed his way through the crowd then suddenly stopped sharp enough for Heero, whose nose was still glued to his cell phone screen, to bump into him from behind.

"What the...?" The young looked up.

"Did you see that?"

"See what?" Heero gave him a puzzled look.

"Never mind." Duo's eyes followed a young woman with brunette hair as she left the shop through the side exit until his lover nudged him from behind.

"What are you waiting for?" Heero asked. "We don't have all day. Quatre wants one of those Chai Lattes, by the way."

"Got it." the other youth confirmed. "What are you going to have?"

###

"Did you have to wait long?" Trowa pulled his key from his pocket, opening the Mercedes via the electronic remote as he and Quatre approached.

"Not at all," his sister shook her head. "Just a few minutes."

"Oh good."

"He was worried," Quatre grinned. "...that you might have missed the bus or wouldn't find the parking lot. But don't take it personally, he always worries about things he has no control over."

The young woman chuckled quietly. "He has been like that for as long as I remember. I think it's very cute."

"Hey, I am right here, you know and I can hear you." the young man huffed in played exasperation as he checked his watch. "Now where are Heero and Duo? How long can it take to get some coffee."

The blonde smirked and exchanged a 'See what I mean?' look with Leia. "Relax, there they are coming now." He gestured across the parking lot from where he saw their friends approach.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us to the sheriff's office?" Trowa asked. Their friend had offered to give Quatre a ride home, while he took Leia into town.

"I am positive, Trowa." the other youth replied. "Heero is going to come over to look at my computer. I really want to get that thing fixed."

"Alright fine."

"Sorry guys, the coffee shop was packed." Heero apologized as he handed the blond the Chai Latte he had requested.

"No problem. Oh, I don't think you have met my friends yet," Trowa turned toward the young woman standing next to him. "Leia these are Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell. They live next door from us. Guys, meet my sister Leia Barton."

"Your sister?" Duo echoed.

"Well, my adoptive sister actually," his friend explained.

"Ah, I see." The braided young man nodded then turned to Leia and extended his hand in greeting. "In any case, it's nice to meet you, Missis Barton."

"Thanks, I'm glad to meet you too. It's Miss Barton, though."

"Is it? I'm sorry. Say have we met somewhere before?"

"I highly doubt it, unless you have been visiting Germany."

"Germany? No, not as far as I know. Could it have been somewhere else...through a mutual friend, maybe?"

"I don't think so." Leia replied politely.

"Okay I guess I am wrong." Duo gave her one of his characteristic grins. "Sorry."

"We'd better go, Leia, or we don't get to the sheriff's office on time." Trowa urged after another gaze at his watch. "Heero I trust you to make sure Quatre gets home safely. And Quatre..."

"Yes, yes I know. I'll close all the windows, lock myself in and pull up the drawbridge. I won't open the door for strangers and only pick the phone up if I recognize the number. Anything else mother?" the young man replied cheekily.

Trowa huffed and mumbled something about him hanging around Duo too much.

#

"Your friend; the one with the long hair... He is a bit of a strange fellow, isn't he?" Leia remarked as she snapped on her seat belt.

"You mean Duo?" Trowa turned the key in the ignition and started the car. "I suppose so. He is completely harmless, though."

"Are you sure?" Through the rear view mirror she watched the three young men climb into Heero's car. "I think there is a lot more going on in that head than he leads on."

"You have no idea." Trowa laughed as he pulled out of the parking lot.

There was a moment of silence while they followed the stream of other cars down the main road. As they drove through the gate Leia threw a look back.

"It's kind of strange, you know."

"What?" He gazed briefly in her direction.

"To think that Trowa used to go to this school, walked these roads, passed this gate... I wonder how much different everything looked back then?"

"Actually not that different. I've seen pictures. There are a few new buildings but most of them have been here from the beginning and have just been renovated and upgraded over the years. A few had been build with different purposes in mind. For example during the Vietnam war the military paid to have a recruitment office constructed. But by the time it was opened the war had become quite unpopular already and so it was not in business for very long. The building was used for different things since then. Most recently they remodeled it into a coffee shop."

"I see you did your homework." She laughed. "It's strange isn't it that of all the schools in this country you would get an assignment here; and the young man you are working for happens to be the very person responsible for finding Trowa."

"Stranger things have happened."

"I suppose," she admitted.

There was another moment of silence before she asked.

"How exactly did he know where to find the body, Triton?"

The young man shrugged. "You will have to ask him about that, not me. I just know it started with your brother's friend."

"Michael Chapman, right. You know ever since you asked me about him I have been trying to remember if I've ever met him. I'm still not sure. Trowa only visited a few times after he left for college."

"You were probably too young to remember."

"What about you? I mean do you have any memories of your real family?"

"I do," he confirmed. "Bits and pieces here and there. Why?"

"Just curious. Triton, when do we start forgetting things?"

"What do you mean?" He frowned slightly.

"I mean your memories of your family, me remembering my brother and his friends... our very early childhood. Last month I took Marie to the Zoo in Cologne. She remembered our last visit when she was barely 2 and she still recalls that Christmas we all spent together at Grandma and Grandpa's house. How come does she remember these things but I don't have any memories before I was about 4 or 5?"

Trowa shrugged. "Maybe our brain works like some kind of sock drawer. It eventually becomes so cluttered that we have to get rid of some of our old memories in order to make room for new socks."

"Sock drawer?" She laughed.

"Hey, I never claimed to be Sigmund Freud, did I?"

###

"What was that all about?" Heero Yuy asked his lover as he unlocked the car.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Duo claimed as he slipped into the passenger seat.

The other youth huffed. "'Have we met somewhere before?' If that was from the book of famous pick up lines you'd better ask for your money back."

From behind them Quatre laughed. "Seriously it was more of a creepy stalker line."

The braided young man tossed his book bag into the back, missing his friend by mere inches. "I wasn't trying to pick her up," he snorted. "But if you must know, I saw her kiss Treize inside the coffee shop just as we got there."

"Treize as in Professor Treize Khushrenada?" Heero asked.

"You know any other Treize?"

"Are you sure? I mean why would Treize have any reason to kiss her?"

"I didn't say that. I said SHE kissed HIM."

"Same difference," his lover insisted. "Maybe you are mistaken."

"I am not."

"Hmm... I think Heero might be right," Quatre threw in. "From what I understand Leia has been living in Germany for at least 15 years. And she just got into town yesterday. So there is no way she and Treize would know one another well enough to go around... kissing. Besides, the professor is gay, right? And from what I have seen he is pretty committed to Milliardo..."

"Whatever," Duo grumbled. It was obvious that his friends didn't believe him.

Heero shook his head but decided to drop the issue. Instead he turned toward Quatre. "Do you mind if we drive by the Fedex place on the way home?"

"Yeah sure wherever you want as long as we will be home by the time Trowa gets there."

"Won't take long," his friend assured him. "Just need to pick up a package."

"Ah did your toothbrushes arrive?" Duo asked.

Quatre frowned. "You buy your toothbrushes by mail? Are they special order or something?"

"No nothing like that. Its...a long story. You tell him, Duo."

* * *

TBC

Author's Note:


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 21**

"Mister Barton, Miss Barton, please have a seat." Sheriff Bonaparte gestured at the chairs across his desk. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Sheriff." Leia nodded.

Trowa waited for her to take a seat before he too sat down.

"I understand you have questions, Miss Barton. I'll try to answer them to the best of my abilities. But you to have to understand that, considering that we are dealing with an ongoing investigation, I can't reveal certain details related to the case."

"Understandable." The young woman gave another nod.

"Can I get you something, perhaps a cup of coffee?"

"I'm fine! Thank you. Triton?" She looked at him questioningly.

"Me too, thank you."

"Well then, let's go on shall we?" Bonaparte suggested. "What would you like to know."

"First and foremost of course, are you positive the remains you found are my brother's"

"Absolutely. We identified them thanks to the medical records your family provided. There is no doubt about it, it is him, ma'am."

"When can I see him?"

The sheriff hesitated as he tried to find the right words. "You do realize there is not much left to see, right?"

"I understand. But still if it is possible..."

"Of course." Bonaparte nodded. "I'll call the medical examiner and set up an appointment"

"Thank you, Sheriff. How much longer do you think it will take before my brother's body will be released to us? I would like to go ahead and plan the funeral as soon as possible."

"As soon as the M.E. completes his examinations. Perhaps you would get a more definite answer from him."

"Of course. One more question." Leia looked up. "Can you tell me how Trowa died? And please, there is no reason to sugarcoat things. I've prepared myself for the worst."

"Well, according to medical report the victim... umm your brother... died from blunt force trauma caused by one or repeated blows to the back of the head. The M.E. is quite certain that he died instantly and with very little pain."

Trowa was chewing on his bottom lip. He hadn't said much since they had entered the room and he didn't interrupt now either. He knew enough about violence and death to know that crime victims rarely died instantly and with very little pain. But he appreciated the sheriff's attempt to shield Leia from the true facts of her brother's death.

"Sheriff, they said on the news that you have found another body, is that true?"

"Yes, that's correct. We were able to recover the remains of at least one more person in that well."

"Is it Michael Chapman?" Trowa wanted to know.

Bonaparte hesitated, staring down at his desk for a brief moment then looked up again. "You didn't hear this from me, but yes we are pretty sure it is Mister Chapman's body. We still have to confirm it, but the medical examiner found some distinguishing characteristics from which he was able to identify the remains. Also a few pieces of fabric that had been preserved seem to have come from clothing very similar to what Mr. Chapman was said to have worn the day he disappeared."

"Where does this leave you?" Leia asked. "From what I understand you were theorizing that it was Mike who killed my brother and dumped him down that well. The fact that his body was found beneath Trowa's however would make it seem as if he had been killed or at least been buried first, wouldn't you agree? Do you have any other suspects."

"I am afraid not at this moment, no," the sheriff admitted. "But I assure you we are doing anything we can..."

"I am sure you are," the young woman replied. "Thank you. But I was wondering. How come wasn't the second body discovered while you unearthed my brother a few days ago? Do you have any explanation for that?"

"I think I do." Bonaparte confirmed. "It appears that there was a layer of earth or clay between the two skeletons. When we pumped out the ground water and dug the first time we assumed we had hit the bottom of the well when we reached that layer. We had no reason to believe that there would be anything below it."

"I see. Well, thank you, Sheriff, for taking the time to speak to us."

"It's the least I can do, Miss Barton. I understand you are staying at your brother's house. I'll be able to reach you there if need be?"

"Yes, that's right. and please don't hesitate to call, day or night, if you have any news for us."

###

Heero had just started to pack up his small toolset when Quatre walked back into the room. After his friend told him that he preferred to be alone when he worked, the blonde had decided to take a shower, in Trowa's bathrooms, to give him the privacy he asked for.

"Done already? I hope that doesn't mean the USB ports are beyond resuscitation."

"No," Heero grinned. "The patient made a miracle recovery."

"Oh good," Quatre laughed. "For some reason I love this old machine, even thought Trowa keeps telling me to just put it out of its misery and get a new one."

"I wouldn't go that far, but it would benefit from a few upgrades. If you want the two of us can drive over to Micromart one day, get a better processor and some additional memory and I can install them for you.""

"That would be great, thanks. Can I get you another beer or something?" The blonde gestured at the empty bottle on the table.

"Thanks, but I really got to run." Heero shoved the toolset into his backpack as he rose to his feet. "Still have to deliver those toothbrushes at the FBI lab."

"Ah yes, right." Duo had told him the whole story on the way home. "Well good luck on that. By the way have to talked to Professor Khushrenada or Milliardo about that ghost?"

"Not yet. "

"You should." Quatre walked his friend downstairs and to the door. "I'm sure they would be happy to help you if they can. And thanks again."

"No problem at all." with a last nod Heero walked away.

The blonde's eyes followed him for a few moments then he went back inside, locked the door and turned on the alarm. He walked into the kitchen to put on some tea, and stifled a yawn. Last night he didn't get as much sleep as he would have liked. With Leia in the house he and Trowa were of course sleeping in separate rooms again.

The young man sweetened his tea with a spoonful of orange-blossom honey. A few minutes later he headed back upstairs; teacup in one hand and a plate with almond cookies in the other.

He settled down at his desk where the computer was still running. For a moment Quatre considered working on his history report, but then he decided that it would have to wait. First there was something else he wanted to check out.

The young man started by googling the name of the music producer Mike was supposed to meet with, shortly before he disappeared.

The man actually was quite famous, or at least he used to be back in the days. He had produced several Broadway and off Broadway plays in the seventies and eighties. _A little before my time. No wonder the name didn't mean much to me. _

Professor Diciasetto was credited in two of the plays Paul Constantine had produced.

Quatre took a sip from his teacup and reached for a cookie as he stifled another yawn.

_"Professor?" The young man listened for some kind of responce as he walked down the long, empty corridor of the music building. But there was no answer, not even the familiar sound of the piano. "Professor Diciasetto?"_

_**And I could have sworn he actually lives here**__, Mike thought with more than just a hint of sarcasm._

_He entered the room at the end of the hall where the music teacher could normally be found at this time. But the room was empty, the piano deserted. _

_The young man looked down at the large envelope in his hand. He had come to return it to the Professor after his meeting with Constantine the night before had fallen through. _

_After a moment of contemplation, and a gaze at his watch, Mike decided to wait. It was still early. Chances were that Diciasetto still returned. _

_Settling down on the piano bench, the young man studied the envelope for a few minutes and then, after a brief moment he carefully opened it. Inside was a thin white folder. _

_Sample scores by Stanislav Kovalski__, he read on the front. _

_**Kovalski?**__ He was sure he never heard the name before. __**Must be another of Diciasetto's students. Let's see how good you are, Stan,**__ he mused while he removed one of the music sheets and put it in onto the piano stand in front of him. _

_As he started to play he had to admit the music sounded good. A little too bouncy and upbeat for his taste but maybe it had been composed with a certain scene in mind. He had only played a few more cords when a sound behind him caused him to turn his head. A heavyset young man, with a shock of red hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in this decade, had entered the room. _

_"Who are you and why the hell are you playing my music?"_

_"Your music? Oh I see, you must be Stan Kovalski."_

_"Who?" The red-head gave him a bewildered look. _

_"Stanislav Kovalski, the one who wrote this piece."_

_"I don't know what you have been smoking, man, but I don't know anyone named Kovalski or whatever. But __**I**__ wrote this music."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"It's one of 3 pieces I turned in for my final grade last semester; ask the professor if you don't believe me."_

_"Professor Diciasetto?"_

_"Who else, man..." It looked like he was about to add something but a female voice from the hall interrupted them._

_"Ronny?" A girl with long blond hair, dressed in a cheerleader outfit appeared in the door. "What's taking you so long, Ronny?" Then she noticed Mike. "Who is he?"_

_"Nobody." Ronny put his arm around her shoulder. "Let's go."_

_Before walking away however he turned one last time toward Mike. "You'd better not try to pass that music off as your own, or else..." The rest of the thread was left hanging in the air, but there was something in the young man's eyes that spoke volumes. _

"Quatre?"

He woke slightly disoriented only to realize that he had fallen asleep at his desk.

"Quatre?" Trowa's voice reached him again from downstairs.

"Up here, in my room."

There were footsteps on the stairs and moments later his friend appeared in the open door to his bedroom.

"You are back already? when did you get home?" Quatre asked.

"Just a few minutes ago. But what about you, you look like you just woke up."

"I did." the young man yawned. "How did things go at the sheriff's?"

"I think Leia feels a little better now that some of her questions have been answered."

"That's good, I suppose."

"By the way she wants to take us out for dinner, if that's alright with you."

"Sure, that sounds great. Where is she?"

"In her room, getting ready, I assume." Trowa replied. "I think I will jump in the shower too before we leave."

"Go right ahead," Quatre told him. " There is something I want to check out very quick and then I'll get ready too."

"See you in a bit then."

###

"Dinner was wonderful, thank you." Quatre told Leia Barton as they returned home a few hours later. The young woman had picked a small, but quite cozy restaurant on the outskirts of town someone had told her about. The food had been good and plentiful and the service excellent.

"Should I make us some coffee?" Trowa offered.

"Not for me, thanks." The young woman shook her head. "I think I'll make it an early night, read a book or something for a little while before heading to bed. It's been a long day. Good Night"

"Good Night." Her brother nodded understandingly and turned toward the blonde. "What about you, Quatre?"

"I am fine too. I still have to finish my homework. Would you mind coming with me for a moment, I think I need your help with something."

Quatre led the way upstairs and gestured for Trowa to follow him into his room. "Close the door, would you."

"What's wrong?" the other youth gave him a guarded look.

"Earlier this afternoon I had another dream," the blond explained as he plopped into his desk chair. "Seems as so Mike isn't finished telling up his story."

"Any important hints?" Trowa asked while settling gingerly on the edge of his friend's bed. "Something that might explain what happened?"

"I am not sure. But I did discover something interesting. According to my dream Mike tried to return those music scores Professor Diciasetto asked him to hand to the music producer, Constantine. I think it was a day or maybe two after that intended meeting that never happened..." Quatre recounted his dreamily vision in detail while Trowa was listening with interest.

"So... you think this fellow Ronny, who claimed the scores were his, might have anything to do with Chapman's death?"

"Hmm... I didn't even think about that. Maybe it would be worth checking out. But there is something else that I found far more interesting. After I woke I tried to check out that Kovalski fellow, but I couldn't find anyone by that name. There is no Stanislav or Stan Kovalski mentioned anywhere in the school register, not as student, and neither as teacher. I went as far back as a decade before Trowa and Mike enrolled."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be without having complete access to the school's records. But I couldn't find anything else either; DMV records etc. There is something else I noticed, though. Stanislav Kovalski had/has an incredible career as a composer. Not only did he write music for Paul Constantine but also for a good dozen other producers. That's quite an remarkable achievement for someone who doesn't seem to exist."

"Hmm..." Trowa raised his hand, stroking his chin thoughtfully as his eyes narrowed slightly. "I think we should talk to Sheriff Bonaparte about it. Also about the guy who claimed he wrote the music that was supposed to be Kovalski's."

"And tell him what when he asks how we got this info? I think he is already a little suspicious about me finding those bodies. The last thing I need is for him to focus on me as a suspect while the real perpetrator has time to hide his or tracks."

"Then what do you suggest?" The bodyguard asked. "You can't keep this a secret forever."

"I know, I know." Quatre signed. "Just give me a couple of days. There are a few leads I would like us to follow and maybe we can come up with an explanation by then to how we discovered the Kovalski name and everything connected to it."

"Fine," Trowa agreed. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well first I would really like to talk to Paul Constantine."

"The producer?" Trowa's eyes narrowed further.

Quatre nodded in confirmation. "I had Rashid do some checking. The man is now retired and lives in California, enjoying the nice weather or something." The young man checked the time. "Do you think it would be alright to call him now? California is two hours behind us?"

"And I thought they claim California is always ahead of everyone else," the other youth grinned while he checked his own watch. "Two hours, that would make it seven o'clock there. I suppose it is still an acceptable time for a social call."

* * *

TBC

Author's Note:


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 22**

"Mister Constantine?" Quatre recognized the elderly man with the pepper and salt hair and the thin mustache from the online pictures of him he had seen. "I am Quatre Winner; we spoke on the phone."

"Ah yes, Mister Winner. I hope you had a pleasant flight."

When the now retired music producer extended his hand while looking not complete at him, Quatre suddenly realized that those dark glasses the man was wearing, were not just some kind of fashion statement.

_He is blind!_

"It's a pleasure to meet you." The young man took the hand and shook it. "And this is Trowa Barton, a friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you." Trowa nodded and Constantine's head turned in his direction.

"The pleasure is mine, but please come inside." He stepped aside to let his guests enter, then led the way into the modern, two story home.

"Thank you." Quatre let out a quiet sigh of relieve at the pleasant coolness of the house.

Constantine gave an amused chuckle as he looked back over his shoulder. "October is still one of the hottest months down here, especially when the Santa Ana winds are blowing," he explained. "This is not the time of the day you want to be outside if you don't have to. Can I offer you something to drink; iced tea perhaps."

"Are you sure it would not be too much trouble?"

"No trouble at all."

The downstairs area of the house was almost one large room. The kitchen was separated only by a marble-covered breakfast bar. Quatre was surprised to see a large flatscreen TV above an entertainment center build around a very stylish fireplace. In front of the fireplace lay what looked like a shaggy cream colored rug. Or at least that's what the young man thought it was until the rug suddenly moved and raised his head.

"That's **one** large dog." Trowa exclaimed impressed, as he watched the Yellow Retriever yawn and stretch. The animal was easily a hundred pounds, which was only emphasized by its long fluffy hair.

"Lucky you mean?" Constantine asked. "He is just a big teddy bear. There is cookie jar somewhere on the counter. Give him one if you want to make a friend for life."

At the mentioning of his name the dog had started to wag his tail and when he heard the word cookie his ears perked up.

Quatre laughed as he looked around and found the cookie jar in question. While he fed one of the large bone-shaped biscuits to the retriever, the music producer pulled a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge and put it along with some glasses and coasters onto a tray on the kitchen counter. The man moved around with such ease, reaching for things and finding them without hesitation that it was hard to believe that he was blind.

A few minutes later the three of them were sitting around a glass coffee table across from the fireplace, in what seemed to be the living area, while the dog had found himself a comfortable spot near his master's feet.

"Do you live all alone here?" Quatre wanted to know as he reached for his glass of tea.

"I do have a housekeeper who comes by every few days, but most of the time it's just Lucky and I. He might not look like it, but he actually is a certified guide dog. And..." Constantine smirked as he reached down to pet the dog's large head. "He is very good in keeping the ex-wife away."

"He doesn't like her?"

"No, Lucky likes everyone. She is allergic to dogs. She actually asked me to choose between him and her." He shrugged. "So I did. But I know you didn't come here to talk to me about my failed marriage."

"No indeed," the blonde chuckled.

"You know... After you called me the other day, I did some thinking. Took a little trip down memory lane you could say. And I did remember something I missed to mention earlier."

"What would that be?"

"A phone call I received. Maybe a day or two after I was supposed to meet with Mister Chapman, he called me saying he needed to talk to me about Stanislav Kovalski."

Quatre exchanged a quick gaze with his friend. "What did he want?"

"I am not sure," Paul Constantine admitted. "I found his message on my machine when I returned from New York. I tried calling him back at the number he left, but I could not reach him. Since it sounded rather important I even called his professor and asked him to tell Chapman that I was trying to get in contact with him. But I never heard back from him. Very strange if I think about it now."

"His professor? Professor Diciasetto I assume. Did you tell him why Mike Chapman wanted to talk to you?"

"Let me think...it's been a long time, but yes I think so. I believe I asked him if he knew what it was all about; since Kovalski was one of his students as well. He said he had no idea, but he would talk to Chapman. And then a few weeks later when he contacted me about some scores for a new play I was working on, I reminded him that I still wanted to meet with Chapman to talk about his music. That's when he told me that the young man had gone missing. He mentioned that there was word he might have gone to Canada. I wonder what ever **did** happen to him."

"I'm afraid he died." Trowa told him quietly. "In fact he might have been killed shortly after that phone call he made to you. That's probably why he never followed up on it."

"Are you serious? That's terrible. He was such a talented young man. What happened; do you know?" The music producer seemed genuinely surprised and shaken up by the news.

"Not exactly. His body, and that of a friend of his has only recently been found." Quatre told him.

"I think I heard something about that on the news. Of course I didn't realize it was him. Is that the real reason you are here? Do they know who killed him? I mean do I need an alibi or something?"

"I don't think so, Mister Constantine. I am sure the police would have contacted you already if they thought you had anything to do with it. Besides, you wouldn't have any reason to kill him, would you?"

"Of course not."

"Say, Mister Constantine." Trowa wanted to know. " You and professor Diciasetto knew each other for a long time already when all of this happened, didn't you?"

"Several years, yes. In fact I was the one who discovered him." A certain amount of pride in his voice was hard to miss. "I heard someone play a piece he had written at a restaurant I visited, and I knew right then and there he was too talented to sell his music to piano bars and night clubs. I contacted him and offered to use his work in my newest musical. It was an instant hit. Back then he was still teaching music at a high school in some backwater town in Minnesota. But soon after he was offered the position at Marymount. We stayed in touch even so his new duties kept him too busy to actually write much. However..."

"Yes?" There was something in Constantine's voice that peeked the young man's interest.

"Well when he finally sent me a new piece I was, to say the least, very disappointed."

"How come?" Quatre looked at the older man questioningly.

"The music was just not up to his standards. I could not even use it in my play. So I decided we had to meet and talk."

"You had met before, I assume."

"Not in person. Back then I had a very busy schedule... and not to mention a wife demanding attention as well. I did many of my business deals over the phone. Anyway, when we had dinner together Diciasetto finally admitted that he had a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Trowa frowned slightly. "Drugs?"

"No nothing like that. I would have never let him get away with that. He told me that he had been in an car accident, nothing too serious he said. But he suffered some head injuries that still caused him headaches and problems concentrating. He was afraid that if the school found out they might find some reason to fire or transfer him. I promised to be discreet about it, but we agreed that it would be best to sever our contract. A few months later he sent me some scores written by a student of his, Stan Kovalski. and asked me if I was interested. Truth to be told Kovalski was no Roberto Diciasetto, but there was a lot of talent. I agreed to buy some of his music."

"And let me guess." Quatre threw in. "You never met Stanislav Kovalski either."

"No, actually I did."

"You did?"

"Yes, I happened to be in New York when Diciasetto contacted me, and I decided to make a little de-tour on the way home. You seem very surprised about that, or did I just read that wrong?"

"No, I was...am surprised. You see, I was beginning to question the existence of Kovalski, since I couldn't find anything about him or anyone besides Professor Diciasetto who ever met him," the young man admitted.

"Oh he does exists, I assure you." Constantine laughed. "Unless you are suggesting I was having dinner that night with some kind of ghost. But ghosts don't write music, do they?"

"I suppose not," Quatre replied with a chuckle of his own. The humor in his voice however didn't reach his eyes. And when Trowa looked at him he knew his friend was still convinced that something was fishy with the whole Kovalski deal. And if he was honest he had to admit that he felt the same.

"Mister Constantine," he asked. "Did Professor Diciasetto ever 'refer' any other students of his to you?"

"In fact he did; ever so often when he thought someone had the talent to make it big."

"Did he get anything out of it?"

"I paid him a small referral fee," the older man shrugged. "But other than that, just the satisfaction of seeing one of his student's name in the credits of a play or movie."

"And did any of them...make it big I mean?"

"Mister Winner, the music industry is a very competitive business," Constantine replied, but Quatre had the feeling he was just trying to be polite. "Finding someone again who could measure up to Diciasetto's talent was probably going to be impossible or at least that's what I thought until I came across Mister Chapman."

###

"You are awfully quiet," Trowa observed as he and Quatre were sitting across from each other in the back of the plane that was taking them back home. His friend had been looking out of the window, without as much as a word, ever since take off.

"Just a little tired." the blond gave him a tiny smile. "I suppose last night is finally catching up with me." After their little outing to the junkyard they only had a few hours of sleep before leaving for the airport. On the flight to California Quatre had been too anxious to doze off, but now his batteries were running on empty.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Trowa suggested. "It's almost 5 hours before we are going to land."

The plane was a mid-size business jet - Quatre's father insisted that they took the family jet for security reasons - equipped with every comfort, including a small private sleeping compartment with two fully reclining seats, and a bathroom with shower.

"I think I actually might do that," the young man yawned. "What are you going to do?"

"Still need to finish up that history report that's due on Wednesday. I think I'll work on that."

"Have fun."

The blonde shuffled to the back of the cabin and disappeared behind a sliding door. Trowa could hear him move around for a few more minutes then it grew quiet. He pulled the laptop from his backpack and fired it up.

Kicking off his shoes Quatre stretched out on the flattened seat and pulled the blanket up to his neck. He was exhausted but sleep didn't come easy. His mind kept returning to their conversation with the aging music producer. What had prompted Mike Chapman to suddenly call him? According to Milliardo's father he let on that he was going to come into a lot of money soon. Yet he had not even spoken to Constantine yet, much less actually sold any of his music to him. So where was the money going to come from?

With another yawn Quatre rolled over onto his side, pulling the blanket up even further to block out the light. And finally, by the soft humming of the jet's engine, he drifted off into peaceful sleep.

_The overhead lamp turned on suddenly, catching him almost like a deer in the headlight. But if __**he**__ was startled, the man entering the room was no less surprised._

_"Mister Chapman, what are you doing here in my office? You'd better have a good explanation."_

_"I do. I was looking for something." the young man replied calmly as he slowly straightened up. He had been kneeling on the floor by the window, next to the large white radiator._

_"Looking for something?"the teacher echoed bewildered. "What in the world? How did you get in here anyway?" _

_"Did you really think the lock in your door could keep anyone out? You really should invest in something a little more secure, Professor." The sarcasm in Mike's voice was hard to miss._

_"That's it, I am calling the police." Diciasetto turned toward his desk where his phone was sitting._

_Chapman just smiled, but it wasn't a pretty smile, as he propped himself against the window sill. "Go right ahead. I'm sure they would be very interested in your explanation how your name got onto these music sheets written by Marymount students." In his right hand he held up a roll of papers, held together by a solid string._

_"My name? I have no idea what you are talking about." _

_"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have said the name Stanislav Kovalski, of course."_

###

"Have you seen my checkbook, Milliardo?" Treize called out when he didn't find the little booklet in its usual place in the kitchen drawer.

"Didn't you take it upstairs into the study? You said you wanted to balance it, yesterday," came his lover's voice through the open patio door. The two men had spent their Saturday morning planting herbs and a few new rose bushes in the garden. Now Milliardo was making sure Cabal didn't dig them up again like he did last time.

"You might be right."

The professor had made it barely half way up the stairs when he heard his phone ringing. Realizing that he had left it outside on the table he swore silently and headed back down. Milliardo met up with him half way through the kitchen, mumbling something about forgetting his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders, as he handed him the Blackberry.

Treize thanked his lover with a smile. "Thanks Dear." He pushed the speak button as he headed once again upstairs. "Hello?"

"Treize? It's Leia."

"Oh, hi. That's a surprise. I wasn't sure if you had my phone number."

"I'm alright, thanks. I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

"Not at all. Unless you are calling to tell me you changed you mind about having dinner with me?" The professor laughed as he walked into the study and settled down in one of the brand new leather recliners next to the fireplace.

"If I did that you'd probably never forgive me, would you? But our dinner date is the reason I am calling," she explained. "How would tonight work for you?"

"Tonight, well..."

She understood even though he left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air. "You have plans already. I should have known. Don't even think about breaking them on my behalf."

"How about tomorrow?" Treize suggested.

"Unfortunately I have to be somewhere tomorrow."

"Well, does it have to be dinner? Maybe I can take you out for lunch on Monday?"

"Don't you have to work?" Leia asked.

"I have a couple hours off midday. You want me to pick you up around noon?"

"Or we could meet at your school. Same place we met last time."

"Sounds good. It's a date then."

"Then I'll see you on Monday."

"Looking forward to it."

"Don't tell me that was that insurance guy again. What part of we aren't interested doesn't he understand?" Milliardo walked into view, holding his step at the door, just as the older man was slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"No, just an old friend."

"Oh good, I am seriously considering letting Alexander loose on him when he keeps bugging us."

"That would do it, I would imagine." Treize gave a deep bubbling laugh as he rose to his feet. "Oh, by the way, would you be terribly disappointed if you would have to have lunch by yourself come Monday?"

"You are breaking our standing lunch date?" The blond have a mock gasp. "I'll be crushed."

Covering the distance between himself and his lover in two long steps, the professor embraced Milliardo pulling him close. "I'll make it up to you?" he promised.

"How?"

Treize dipped his head bringing his mouth close to the young man's ear and breathed. "Well, I have a few ideas involving you, me, the hot tub..."

"Go on, you've got my attention."

###

After listening for a brief moment at the cabin door Trowa finally decided to knock. "Quatre, you awake?"

"Come in," his friends voice reached him from inside. "I'm up."

Both chairs were upright and young man was sitting by the window with a blanket draped loosely around his shoulders.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"I did," he confirmed.

"How about some tea?"

Quatre turned toward his friend with a soft smile. "I'd love some. I'll be right out."

As Trowa returned to the main cabin he could hear the water run in the bathroom. By the time the tea was served the blonde had joined him, settling down in the seat across from him.

"Trowa," he said after a few moments of quiet. "I think I know now why Mike Chapman had to die."

Trowa's head snapped up. "You had another vision?"

"I believe so." Quatre nodded. He took a sip from his steaming tea before telling the other youth about his brief but powerful dream.

"We should call Sheriff Bonaparte as soon as we get home," the bodyguard declared.

"Not quite yet?"

"What do you mean?" the young man frowned.

"Well, think about it, even with all we know we really don't have any proof. If Bonaparte was to confront Diciasetto he could deny anything. I think that's the very reason why Mike didn't go to the police either. It would have been the word of a prominent music professor against his. And now it would be his word from the grave, something any jury would frown upon I can imagine."

"Then what are you suggesting?" The look Trowa gave the other youth was somewhat guarded, as thought he already knew that he wouldn't like the idea. And sure enough...

"I am going to meet with Professor Diciasetto."

"What?"

"I called him right after I woke up. He is willing to talk and asked me to meet him in his office at 11 pm tonight."

"Are you out of your mind? If Diciasetto is in fact the one who murdered Mike and Trowa he is a very dangerous man, and there is no saying what he might do if he feels cornered."

"Then it's a good thing I have one of the best bodyguards money can buy," Quatre replied with a little smirk. "And in addition, I am planning on hiring a second one just for tonight."

* * *

TBC

Author's Note: As most readers by now should have noticed, this story as well as 'The Junkyard' are down to their last few chapters. That's certainly a good start to working on my New Year's resolution of finishing at least 4 of my currently ongoing stories. On my list of stories to work on next are 'Spirit of the Blue-eyed Wolf', 'Sugar and Whips' (only up on my personal website), Book one of 'The Dragon King' and 'The Purrfect Houseguest'. Feel free to let me know what you would prefer to read next, my muses might be swayed by it ;)

Also I hope the fans of my little 'Ghost Detective' series will be happy to know that I have at least two more stories in that series outlined. 'The Good Luck Charm' will deal with some revelation about Wufei's ancestors, while 'The Raven' will be about Duo who learns a thing or two about legends and history when he and the rest of the gang go on vacation in Scotland.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 23**

"Hey, isn't that Milliardo's car?" Quatre gestured at the red Acura NSX in the neighboring driveway.

Turning his head, Trowa nodded. "Looks like it." Of course he couldn't be sure since it was impossible to read the license plate from where he was standing. The brunette handed the taxi driver a twenty dollar bill, telling him to keep the change.

"Thanks." The man tipped his hat and waited for Trowa to step away from the car before driving off.

After their landing at the small local airfield, the two young men had stopped at a nearby fast-food joint to grab dinner, then called a cab to take them home. Leia had left a message earlier on Trowa's phone to let them know that she would be spending the evening out, exploring the old town.

Quatre checked his watch. It was shortly after 8:30. "Do you think Alexander is here too?"

"I don't know," Trowa shrugged. "Let's go check."

The strong aroma of burning woodchips and charcoal hanging in the air, only intensified as they approached the house next door.

"Smells like they are having a BBQ." Quatre remarked as he rang the bell.

A few moments later the door was opened. "Oh it's you guys," Heero laughed. "Come in we are in the backyard. I thought you were in California."

"Just got back." Trowa replied as they followed their friend through the house. "You were expecting someone else I take it?"

"Yeah, for a moment there we thought it might be the police again."

"Police...Again...?" The blonde echoed. "What have you guys been up to?"

"**We**, nothing." Duo announced innocently earning himself a suspicious look from both Trowa and Quatre.

"He is right." Treize Khushrenada replied. "It was not us but a certain ancestor of mine, whose name shall remain unmentioned, who managed to set off the house alarm not once but twice."

"Oh boy, how did that happen?" Quatre chuckled as he and his companion found themselves a place to settle down.

"Apparently Alexander discovered his love for antique cars after Heero here gave us a short tour through his little private car museum. After we left the garage he went back, starting the alarm for the first time."

"Well, at least that one we caught and I managed to call the security company before they sent someone out," Heero explained. "So it wasn't really that bad."

"I guess not, aside from the fact that it almost deafened all of us." Duo added tongue in cheek.

"Well, anyway I turned off the alarm to make sure it wouldn't happen again, but I forgot that some of the more expensive cars are on their own silent alarm system. So when Alexander decided to have another look around a little later, he must have set off one of them without anyone noticing..."

"Suddenly the doorbell rings," Milliardo picked the story up. "And there are four cops out there, guns drawn. They actually made us step out one by one and searched the entire house top to bottom to make sure there wasn't anyone hiding, holding someone hostage or so."

"I assume they didn't go for your 'it wasn't us, it was the ghost' defense?" Trowa chuckled, while Quatre gave a deep belly laugh.

"Oh yes," Treize replied. "It's quite amusing now. But it was not at that moment, trust me."

"Oh my gosh," Quatre finally managed to catch his breath. "There is never a dull moment when he is around, is there?"

"Amen to that," the professor confirmed.

"Something smells awfully good. What are you guys cooking?" Trowa wanted to know.

"Just a little surf and turf; catfish and steaks. Can I get you guys some beer," Heero offered. "The steaks should be done any minute. You will have some, won't you?"

"Actually we just ate. I'll take something to drink so. Got any coke?

"I'll have one too," Quatre nodded, and their host left the patio to grab a couple of cans from the fridge. "Actually, the reason we came by is to ask if we could 'borrow' Alexander for a couple of hours?"

"Borrow Alexander?" One of Treize's eyebrows jumped up in surprise. "What exactly are we talking about here? Somehow I have a feeling you are not planning to take him out for a midnight picnic or something."

"No, I wouldn't exactly call it a picnic," the young man admitted. "I am meeting with Professor Diciasetto in a couple of hours, you see..."

"**We **will be meeting with Professor Diciasetto." Trowa corrected firmly.

"Am I missing something here?" Wufei asked. "Why would you be meeting with your music teacher in the middle of the night, and why would you need Alexander to do so?"

"It's a long story, really."

Heero returned, handing his friends their drinks. As all eyes settled on him Quatre told his friend the whole story about their visit with Paul Constantine, and last but not least his vision of the confrontation between Michael Chapman and the. "I think Mike figured out what was going on and tried to blackmail the professor with it. And that's what got him killed."

"Wait a second," Milliardo looked at the younger man. "You didn't tell him on the phone that you are suspecting him in the murders, did you?"

"Do I really look that stupid?" Quatre snorted. "Of course not. I told him that found some evidence indicating that one of his former students might be involved in fraud. I mentioned Stan Kovalski and that I thought he was stealing other student's work and selling it as his own. Of course I didn't tell him that I thought that Kovalski was nothing but a puppet or persona created just for that very reason. In any case he agreed to talk to me and go over some of the papers his students had turned in over the years to compare them against scores Kovalski has been credited for."

"I don't get it." Duo shook his head. "If he was such a... music genius, why would Diciasetto have to steal someone else's music. And why would he have to create some persona to sell it?"

"I don't have all the answers yet either," the young man admitted. "That's why I want to talk to him. Hopefully he will let something slip. Maybe I am wrong about all of this. And if I am not, maybe I can convince him to go to the police."

"Or maybe in another thirty years they will pull **your** body out of some well." Duo pointed out.

"Thank you," Trowa nodded at his friend. "That's what I have been trying to tell him all along. It's a stupid idea. But somehow the words 'don't do it' don't seem to exist in the Quatre Winner's dictionary of modern language."

"I know there might be some risk, but that's why I would like for Alexander to come along."

"I suppose that would be up to him." Treize shrugged as he realized that there was no talking sense into the young man. Trowa was right: once Quatre had set his mind onto something there was just no stopping him. "Alexander?"

Only then Quatre realized the ghostly presence, and for a moment he wondered how long Alexander had been around. Long enough to know what they had been talking about, it appeared. And there was no misunderstanding his reaction. The diary that Milliardo had been carrying as usual, suddenly floated toward Quatre, stopping right in front of him just within an arm's length.

With a soft smile the young man reached for the leather bound booklet. "Thank you."

"What's up with the 'have diary will travel' attitude all of a sudden, Alexander?" Milliardo huffed. "I still remember a time when you actually enjoyed hanging out with us, you know."

"Leave him be, Milliardo." Duo grinned. "You are just jealousy Quatre asked him and not you to tag along."

Milliardo gave another huff but didn't say another word.

"Thanks guys, we promise not to keep him out too late." Quatre smirked.

"Be careful," Treize urged. "When will you be meeting Diciasetto?"

"At eleven, in his office at school."

"Call us when you get there. And if we don't hear from you again by 11:30 **we** will call the sheriff, is that clear?"

"Perfectly," Trowa nodded. "Thanks."

###

"What time is it?"

The music hall, where Professor Diciasetto as head of the center had his office, was locked and dark when they arrived. Which wouldn't have been surprising considering the day and time, if not for the fact that the professor had promised to meet them there.

Pulling his phone from his pocket again Trowa checked the clock. "Almost a quarter after eleven."

"Do you think he changed his mind? Or maybe he just got stuck somewhere in traffic."

"Traffic, at this time? No I would rather believe he got cold feet. If your call set off alarm bells in his mind he might be half way to Canada by now. Or sitting on a flight to a cozy little island in the south pacific."

"I don't know." Quatre shook his head pensively. Truth was, the idea had crossed his mind too. But he was still hoping that they were wrong."Let's check the parking lot to see if his car is here," he suggested.

"Fine," Trowa agreed. "But if it isn't we are calling the sheriff, deal?"

"Deal," his friend nodded.

The teacher parking lot was nearly deserted, except for a single canary yellow Ford Mustang in spot 26.

"See, he is here; I told you."

Suddenly Quatre could feel Alexander move. Until now the ghost had been constantly at his side. The young man frowned slightly then smiled as Alexander headed south toward the administration building. "You are right. Maybe Diciasetto is waiting for us in the main office."

"I don't like this, I really don't like this." Trowa mumbled as he pushed past his friend. Something didn't feel right and made the hair in the back of his neck stand up. "Stay behind me, Quatre."

The words had barely left his mouth when he heard a noise in the darkness ahead, something like metallic clunk followed instantly by a heavy thud that sounded like a sandbag hitting the floor.

"Did you hear that?" His head spun around only to find his friend kneeling on the ground, doubled over as if in pain. He was next to him in one big step. "Quatre? What's wrong?"

"Something happened," the young man panted. All color had drained from his face. "...something terrible."

"You felt it?"

Quatre nodded. "Getting...better now." he panted.

"I'll go check it out. You stay here. Alexander don't leave his side, no matter what."

Raising his head slightly Quatre watched his friend disappear around a corner. Beside him Alexander offered comfort by running his ghostly hand through the soft, golden hair.

"Thanks," the young man whispered. A few deep breaths later the nauseating feeling in his stomach had dissipated and he was able to stand up.

"Let's go see what happened." Quatre suggested. He smiled softly at the sense of concern radiating from the ghostly presence beside him. "I'm fine now, Alexander. Thanks for your concern though."

As he rounded the corner the first thing he noticed was a crumbled figured on the concrete in front of the administration building. A few steps later he was close enough to identify the figure as his music teacher, Professor Diciasetto. Quatre's stomach lurched again, but this time for a completely different reason. Dark puddles of blood were beginning to form around the battered body, and the smell alone was enough to make him almost gag.

Crouched next to the professor, Trowa was on the phone finishing up a call to the emergency dispatcher it appeared.

"...no, I said the **administration** building at Marymount college. I'm quite certain he is beyond help. I'll be waiting here."

When the young man slipped his phone into his pocket and turned he noticed Quatre.

"What are you doing here, I thought I told you to wait. This is nothing you need to see, Quatre." Laying his arm gently around his friend's shoulder he guided him away until they reached a bench from where the body couldn't be seen.

"He is dead, isn't he?"

"Yes. "

"What happened? Did he fall off the roof?" It was the only explanation since none of the windows in the administration building could be opened.

"Fell or jumped, it appears." Trowa nodded in confirmation as he slipped off his jacket and draped it loosely around Quatre's shoulder's. "I called the police; they should be here soon."

"Thanks." With a weak smile the young man buried his fingers into the soft fabric. "Did you call Treize and the others, too? They are probably starting to worry by now."

"I'll do it right now." Trowa gave his friend a concerned look. "How are you feeling?"

"Starting to feel a little better now." Quatre assured him while he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the soft touch of ghostly fingers gently stoking his back. "Sorry for worrying the two of you."

##

"Did you touch anything?" The sheriff himself had pulled up only moments after the first patrol car arrived at the scene and taken over command of the investigation. He had been on his way home from a party at a friend's house when the call came in. After the paramedics confirmed the professor's death, the body was covered and the medical examiner called in. Meanwhile Bonaparte was talking to his 'witnesses' while his men swarmed out to secure the scene, including the roof.

"I checked his pulse," Trowa told him. "He didn't have one. So I called 911 and we moved away from the body." It wasn't quite the whole story, but he couldn't exactly tell the sheriff that he had sent Alexander to check out the area after he had finished his call to their friends. And for obvious reasons he couldn't admit either that the ghost had returned a few minutes later with a piece of paper that seemed to have been ripped from some kind of notebook.

_"What's that?" Quatre wanted to know. The handwriting on the paper looked vaguely familiar. _

_"I am not sure. It looks like a suicide note. Let me see." When Trowa reached for the paper it moved away, just out of his reach, and the young man realized Alexander didn't want him to touch it. Smart thinking, he thought. For a moment he wondered if ghost could possibly leave fingerprints. But even if, what were the chances that Alexander's prints were anywhere on file. _

_For the past 33 years I have been looking over my shoulder, living in fear that someone might find out what I have done. and finally it seems that my past is about to catch up with me.  
I am sorry for what I am about to do, for taking the cowardly way out, but the idea of having to go to jail is more than I can bare._

_I never meant to harm anyone, and I most certainly did not mean to kill those two young men. It was an accident, really. But nobody would have believed me, I'm sure. I don't know how and when things started to go wrong. I just know that suddenly everything seemed to snowball and take on a life on its own. A few scores of music nobody should have missed. How could I possible know where this would lead to? _

_I know I did is inexcusable. But I can only express how sorry I am for all the pain and sorrow I have caused and hope for forgiveness._

_"It's a confession!" Quatre exchanged a long gaze with his friend. "He really __**did**__ kill them."_

_"So it appears." Trowa confirmed. He was about to add something else, but the sound of quickly approaching sirens stopped him. "Alexander," he urged. "Put it back where you found it; exactly how you found it, quick."  
_

"Did either of you see how it happened?"

"No, we heard some kind of noise and I went to check it out. That's when I found the body."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were the two of you doing here at this hour anyway?"

"Actually we came to see the professor. There was something we needed to talk to him about and he ask us to meet him at his office. Sheriff, as you can see, Mister Winner really isn't feeling well. I'd would like to take him home now if you don't mind. You know where to find us, and we are more than happy to come by your office tomorrow to make an official statement."

"Of course." Bonaparte nodded as he gazed at the blonde's pale face. "Must have been quite a shock I can imagine. Would you like me to call one of the paramedics over?"

"No, thank you that won't be necessary," Quatre reclined politely. "The sight of blood always makes me a little queasy." It was much easier to lie than to explain that he felt ill because had experienced his teacher's terror and pain as the man plunged to his death.

"Very well then, but..."

"Sheriff?" Bonaparte was interrupted as one of his men came running over to where he was standing. "We discovered this on the roof top. I think you really should take a look." In his hand the officer was holding the very suicide note Alexander had showed them earlier. It had been put into a clear plastic bag to preserve any trace evidence.

After accepting the note carefully the sheriff turned once more toward the young men he had been talking to. "I would offer to have one of my deputies drive you home. But I assume you came in your own car."

"Yes," Trowa confirmed. "We left it over by the music hall. "Well then we will see you tomorrow."

"Make sure to call me in the morning. I might not even need your statement: this could be an opened and shut case. Looks like he left a suicide note."

"Yes, I ..." _Know._ Trowa was about to say but caught himself at the last moment. "...am not surprised," he added instead. "It does look like your typical suicide, doesn't it? Well, we'd better go." He offered his friend an arm for support as they walked away before he could accidently say something he shouldn't have.

On the drive home Quatre was unusual quiet, but the other youth didn't make too much of it. At least some color was starting to return into the young man's face once they had left the school behind. At Treize and Milliardo's house they stopped only long enough to drop off Alexander, thank the ghost and tell their friends that they would talk about everything tomorrow.

As they pulled into the driveway however, Quatre surprised the other youth when he suddenly looked up. "Do you think he really did it?"

"What?" Trowa gave his friend a puzzled look but Quatre only shook his head.

"Ah, nothing, never mind."

* * *

TBC

Author's Note:


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 24**

"Thank you Sheriff, for seeing us so early."

It was not even 7 o'clock on Monday, but from the array of paper cups in the waste basket and the more than half empty carafe sitting on the coffee maker it was obvious that Bonaparte had been in his office for a while already.

"No problem at all Miss Barton. Mister Barton, Mister Winner..." He greeted his visitors. "The sooner we can put these very unfortunate incidents behind us the better for all of us, I believe. Please make yourselves comfortable."

"I couldn't agree more." The young woman took the chair on the left, with Trowa settling down next to her and Quatre at his friend's right. "My parents will finally have some closure knowing the man who killed my brother is dead. You are sure about that, aren't you?"

"It certainly appears that way. Professor Diciasetto practically confesses to the crimes in his suicide note, although he mentioned that at least one of them was a accident." The sheriff confirmed. His desk was littered with papers, handwritten notes as well as printouts and faxes. Perhaps there was some kind of method to the chaos. "I think what happened is that the professor realized that sooner or later he would be caught, now that the bodies of his victims had been found. Rather than facing the consequences to his crimes he chose, how he himself put it, the cowardly way out. But that's far from all there is to the story."

Bonaparte looked up to make sure he had his visitors' full attention before he continued.

"After the Medical Examiner took the professor's fingerprints I had them checked to see if he had been in trouble with the law before. Sure enough we found him in the system; he had been arrested a couple of times for drug possession in the early 60s, but not under the name Roberto Diciasetto. Turns out the fingerprints belong to a..."

"...Stanislav Kovalski." Quatre finished the sentence, earning himself a surprised look from the sheriff.

"How did you know?"

"Well, you see Stanislav Kovalski was the reason Trowa and I were going to meet with the professor Saturday night," the young man explained. "After talking to a former music producer on the west coast we suspected that someone used the name Kovalski to sell stoles music scores; music scores that had actually been written by Marymount students and turned in as papers or finals for their music classes."

"You assumed the professor was behind it since he would have easy access to the music." Bonaparte gave the young man a admonishing look. "You should have come to me the moment you found about it."

"I know. I'm very sorry," Quatre apologized. "I wish I had."

"So who is this Kovalski fellow?" Leia wanted to know. "And why did he work here at the school under a false name?"

"**That** I am still working on. You see, Stanislav Kovalski according to my investigation was born in may 1948 and died in an car accident in summer of 69."

"How is that possible?" The young woman asked. Even Trowa and Quatre exchanged a surprised look.

"I am hoping the report my colleague from Hamilton County, where the accident happened, faxed me this morning can shed some light on that issue. I just was about to get over it when you arrived. For now my guess would be that Kovalski somehow for some reason might have staged his death and then reinvented himself under a different name."

"Sheriff," Trowa asked after a brief moment of contemplating. "You wouldn't know by any chance when the professor started to work at our school, would you?"

"No, but I have his personnel file right here. Let me see." It took Bonaparte only a few moments to check the file.

"According to this he became a teacher at Marymount with the start of the 1969 fall semester."

Trowa nodded slowly as though that was only confirming his theory. "Now could you check if the accident that killed Kovalski might have been a multiple car crash? And look if the second vehicle was possibly registered to Diciasetto.

The sheriffs head snapped up and his eyes went wide as realization crossed his face. "Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?" He asked even as he started to dig through the pile of faxed pages belonging to the accident report.

"No," he finally shook his head. "Only one car involved. But..."

A pregnant pause caused everyone to hold their breath. "It was indeed registered to a Roberto Diciasetto."

"What happened?" Quatre wanted to know.

"Well, according to this report, Diciasetto... Or shall we say the man claiming to be Diciasetto," Bonaparte explained while his eyes flew over the pages. "...said that he had picked up a hitchhiker the day before, a young man... Well I will be damned... By the name of Stan Kovalski. Apparently..." The sheriff looked up and at his visitors. "Kovalski was a musician traveling south to Nashville and Diciasetto said he figured having something in common they could talk about would shorten the trip for both of them. - Well let's see what he says about the accident itself. Ah, here we go. They took turns behind the wheel and Kovalski was driving that afternoon. When he was trying to avoid a deer he lost control and the car flipped. Diciasetto says he must have been thrown clear and knocked out because the next thing he remembered was coming to on the side of the road and his car being in flames. He hiked several miles to a call box from where he phoned the police. The emergency crew that arrived put out the fire and pronounced the driver of the car dead at the scene. He probably died before the car even caught fire. As for Diciasetto , he was taken to a hospital but released the next day."

"So apparently the one who actually survived the accident was Kovalski, but for some reason he decided to take over the name and identity of the person who gave him a ride." Leia shook her head. "That's just weird."

"But it makes sense." Quatre pointed out. "They both had a background in music, only Diciasetto was a whole lot more successful at his young age. They probably talked while they were riding in the car together and Kovalski knew the other man was starting a new job many people could only dream of. It might have sounded more appealing than an uncertain music career in Nashville Tennessee. And of course this would also explain why the music the new ' Diciasetto ' delivered to Paul Constantine was not up to his usual standard."

Trowa nodded. "The circumstances might have made the identity theft very easy," he pointed out. "A car crash that probably destroyed papers and identifications, a new town, a new job where nobody knew him. Although I am a little surprised that he managed to fool the people at Marymount. Was there nobody who realized he was not the same person they hired?"

"That is indeed a good question, Mister Barton. I assume there should be still teachers around who worked here when he started out. I'll make sure to talk to them."

###

If the discovery of the bodies of two former Marymount students had created quite a stir in the community, the news of Professor Diciasetto death on campus and his possible involvement in the murders produced a real shock wave. Still, administrators and teachers tried their best to continue the school's curriculum with as few interruptions as possible. Some early lectures had to be rescheduled due to the still ongoing police work, and of course the music classes taught by professor Diciasetto were canceled indefinitely, until a replacement teacher could be found.

Most students didn't mind a late start on Monday morning and a few extra free periods, but those enrolled in the advanced music program couldn't help but wonder how this incident would affect their grades and upcoming finals.

"Hey Wufei, you coming too?" Heero Yuy called out to his friend as he and Duo crossed paths with him in front of the sport's complex.

"Coming where?" the Chinese youth asked.

"To Howard's for lunch. Trowa and Quatre will meet us there."

"Oh sure, can't blame those two for trying to stay away from the cafeteria. By now everyone probably knows that they found the body and is trying to pump them for more information." Wufei threw his bag over his shoulder and followed his friends.

"I'm pretty sure Trowa would take care of anyone trying to pump Quatre."

"I'm sure he would," Heero smirked, and Duo's ears turned red as he realized the double meaning behind his words.

"Geez, you know exactly what I mean. Get your head out of the gutter, will you."

His lover just laughed and even Wufei couldn't help a grin. They had just reached the small road that divided the teacher parking lot from student lot B, when the braided young man gave a quiet whistle.

"Don't look now, guys, but there they are again."

"What? Where?" Wufei gave his friend a puzzled look.

"Who?" Heero added, looking just as confused, while they continued to make their way to his car.

"You left out the why, I believe." Duo rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about Treize and Trowa's sister of course. I knew there was something going on between them. It's the second time now we have seen them together..."

"Correction," Heero pointed out. "It's the second time you have seen them together. As for me, I have yet to..." He looked around until his gaze caught the professor and the woman crossing the other parking lot. "Oh, it really is them."

"Looks like they are going to drive somewhere together." Wufei added as he too finally noticed them.

"Exactly my point." Duo replied. "Look, he is even holding the car door open for her."

"So?" Heero shrugged. "He always seems to do that. I have seen him hold the door for Milliardo too."

"I rest my case," his lover replied. "Besides, its Monday shouldn't he be taking Milliardo out for lunch and not some woman."

"This woman is Trowa's sister, remember. Maybe he is just giving her a ride, taking her to the sheriff's office or whatever. She is here in town to bury her brother. I'm sure having an affair is not very high on her list of priorities right now."

"I think Wufei is right. You are making too much of this. Now let's go or we won't make it back for the next class."

"Fine!" Duo huffed. "But when the other shoe drops don't say I didn't see it coming."

Wufei exchanged a look with Heero before shaking his head. He considered himself fairly intelligent, but sometimes his friend managed to confuse even him.

#

"So, any preferences where you would like me to take you?" Treize Khushrenada asked as he slipped into the driver seat of his car.

"I'm sure you know better than I what's good around here and what isn't. Why don't you just surprise me?"

"How about something exotic then?" he suggested.

"As long as you don't expect me to eat deep fried grasshoppers or anything like that, I am all for it."

The professor laughed. "Why, I've heard they are quite nutritious and full of protein," he teased. "But no, I was not thinking THAT exotic. There is a place a couple of blocks from here, where they grill lamb skewers over an open pit and serve them with handmade flatbread and fresh mango chutney."

"Sounds delicious."

"Well then that's where we will go." Pulling out of his parking lot he noticed Heero's jeep leaving the lot across the street.

"I've heard you saw the sheriff this morning," he said in an attempt to make small talk.

"Yes," Leia confirmed. "He had some news for us."

"Did he mention when he will be ready to release your brother's body?"

"Not for another week at least, more likely two."

"So, then you will be still around for a while."

"No, actually," she shook her head. "I will be leaving tomorrow morning."

"Already? You are not even going to stay for the funeral?" He turned his head in surprise, as he waited for the traffic light in front of the campus gate to change.

"Oh no, I am not going home to Germany yet; just to my parents' house. You see, I've left my daughter with Omi and Opa; she has never been away from me for more than a couple of days before."

"Your daughter?" He asked. "I didn't even know you had a daughter."

"Her name is Mariemaia. She is... She is everything to me."

"I'm sure she thinks the same of you." He smiled softly.

"What about you? You like children?"

"In general or as in my own?"

"Your own, I suppose. Have you ever considered having some?"

"Maybe someday, in the future." He shrugged. "Call me selfish, but right now I don't think neither Milliardo nor I are ready to put our life on hold for the next twenty years or so. A child... I mean that takes a lot of contemplation."

"Yeah it does," she agreed.

"You got any pictures of her?"

"Not with me right now, sorry."

"What about her father?" he wanted to know. "Do you live with him?"

"No, it didn't work out. We went our separate ways. But she is most definitely his daughter, I can tell already." She chuckled which let Treize to believe that was a good thing.

"Here we are," he announced as he pulled into the crowded parking lot a small restaurant with a Persian name.

"Oh I can smell the meat cooking already."

###

By the time Heero and his two house mates made it to Howard's Trowa and Quatre were already waiting. And with them was no other than Milliardo Peacecraft. The tall, blond had just finished ordering his food, while their friends were already eating.

"Hey there," Hilde greeted the three young men as they walked over to the table. "Your orders will right up."

"But, in case you haven't noticed," Duo asked cheekily. "We didn't even order yet."

"**They** did?" The young woman gestured in Quatre and Trowa's direction.

"How did you know what I wanted?" Duo put down his bag and slipped into one of the seats.

"How hard could it have been, Duo?" Wufei remarked dryly. "We are always having the same."

"What if I wanted to eat something else for a change," the braided young man argued. "It could have happened."

"Hell hasn't frozen over yet, Maxwell." Milliardo shot back.

The young man snorted. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"What does it look like? I'm having lunch of course."

"Today is Monday shouldn't you be having lunch with Treize?"

"Not today. An old friend of his is in town; they went out together."

"An old friend?" Duo purred, ignoring the kick from his lover under the table. "Anyone we would know?"

"Well, I don't know about you. But he should," Milliardo replied with a nod at Trowa. "It's his sister."

"My sis...Leia?"

"She was Treize's ICU nurse when he was hospitalized after he got injured in combat," the older youth explained. "I take it you didn't know?"

Trowa shook his head. "I didn't," he admitted. "She doesn't talk much about her work with me. When was that?"

"Four, maybe five years ago?" Milliardo shrugged. "I am not quite sure. Treize doesn't like to talk about his time in the military either."

_Four maybe five years ago..._ Trowa's brows knitted. _No, that would be crazy...wouldn't it?_

"Earth to Trowa Barton..." Duo's voice broke his train of thought. His head snapped up.

" What?"

"I was asking if you are going to finish those chips."

"No, help yourself."

"What just happened?" the braided young man asked as he pulled the basket with the homemade chips, one of Howard's specialties, closer.

"What do you mean?"

"Looked like you were a million miles away for a moment."

"Ah, nothing." Trowa shook his head. "Just some stupid thought that crossed my mind."

"Speaking of stupid thoughts." Milliardo crossed his arms as he leaned over the table toward Quatre. "How did the Sheriff react when he found out about you withholding your theories about Diciasetto from him?"

"He took it in stride. I don't think there is much that can really upset him."

"Really?" The older youth huffed. "Think again. I once saw him chew out one of his deputies for letting a reporter into the backyard where they were working. I swear the man was five inches shorter by the time Bonaparte was through with him."

"How did your meeting this morning go anyway?" Wufei wanted to know, just as Hilde returned with three plates of food and another basket of their complimentary chips.

"He got some interesting information about our professor, to say the least..."

#

"So, Kovalski became Diciasetto. And since he didn't have the necessary skills to write his own music he stole papers from students. By accident Michael Chapman figured it out, maybe even realized that the professor was not the person he claimed to be, and was killed for it..." Heero summarized the story after his friend had finished it.

Trowa nodded. "Mike was in an financial bind. He wanted to go to Canada and needed money for that, so he most likely tried to blackmail the professor."

"Big mistake," Milliardo remarked. "But what about his friend? Why was Trowa killed as well? I can't imagine that puny little Professor Diciasetto would have been able to overpower them both at the same time."

"Yes, that might be a mystery that we will never be able to solve, now that the professor killed himself."

"Unless of course," Quatre added. "We are able to find the person who helped him."

"Helped him?" his friends echoed almost in unison.

"To get rid of the bodies of course," Quatre pointed out. "As Milliardo said, the professor wasn't exactly Mister Brawny. He could not have done it himself."

"Hmm..." Wufei's expression turned thoughtful. "What about the guy he passed off as Kovalski to the music producer guy? Any idea on his identity?"

"No, the sheriff figures he might have just been a student or so who got a free dinner and a few bucks for his performance. But you got a good point there."

"Unfortunately," Trowa added. "Mister Constantine wouldn't be much of a help either identifying him."

There was a moment of silence only interrupted by the clinking of silverware as everyone was following their own thoughts. Milliardo was the first to speak up again.

"I assume there was a thorough investigation in 98? I mean could it be that Kovalski staged that whole accident to steal the real Diciasetto identity?"

Quatre shook his head. "I don't think so. According to the accident report they found tire marks and other signs on the road that supported the story. No, it seems to have been just a clear-cut accident."

"This sounds crazy, you know." Duo shook his head. "Somehow two young men who never knew one another meet and their lives get tangled in more than just the figurative way. And in the end four people are dead and dozen more life affected. And it all started with some deer in the road. Sounds to me like that theory, what is it called..."

"You mean Murphy's Law?" Heero volunteered. "Everything that can go wrong will go wrong."

"No, I believe he is talking about Chaos theory." Wufei replied. "The butterfly effect..."

The braided young man nodded vigorously. "That's it. The theory that a very small occurrence can snowball into a chain of events of enormous proportion, like a butterfly flapping it's wings in Brazil setting off a tornado in Texas. Of course, in this case our butterfly would have been a deer."

There was a long moment of silence at the table. As crazy as it sounded, Duo was right.

"So," The young man finally changed the subject. "Milliardo you really don't mind Treize going out with someone else?"

"They are not going out, they are just having lunch to catch up on old times."

"Are you sure about that?"

Wufei gave a huff of exasperation. "You just can't drop it, can you?"

"I just think Milliardo has a right to know."

"Know what?"

"That she kissed him. I saw them together last week in school."

"On the mouth?"

"On the cheek," the younger man admitted.

Milliardo just laughed. "If I would get jealous every time Treize flirts with someone I wouldn't have time for anything else. That's just him. He can't help it any more than a leopard can get rid of its spots."

"Unless of course it's a black leopard." Duo replied.

"Even black leopards have spots." Trowa pointed out, and Hilde who was just bringing the bill to the table nodded.

"You just can't see them very well."

"Why is everyone all of a sudden an expert in zoology?" Duo grumbled as he reached for his valet along with the rest of his friends. But Milliardo stopped them mid motion. "I got this one."

"You sure?" Wufei asked.

"Positive. Don't worry, I'll put it on Treize's card. You see, I don't get jealous. I just get even."

"Thanks for lunch, man." Duo grinned. "But if you really wanted to get even with Treize you shouldn't have come to Howard's but gone to the mall or something."

"Where do you think I was before I came here? Hugo Boss just released their new fall line."

* * *

TBC

Author's Note: 2 more chapters to go, I think.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

**windwraith:** Sorry, I forgot that I hadn't put Sugar and Whips back up yet. Last summer some joker with too much time on his hands hacked into my site and deleted all of my stories. I decided to go over the stories one by one and check them for errors , make a few little adjustments here and there before reposting them. S&W should be up soon after I am finished with Well and Junkyard.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 25 **

_"Where are you going?"_

_"I don't think it's any of your business." Mike snapped at his friend as he pulled on his jacket. Trowa was leaning, with his arms crossed in front of his chest, against the doorframe to the living room. _

_"Does it have anything to do with that phone call from Professor D. Why is he calling you this late?"_

_"Are you listening in on my phone conversations?"_

_"I was not!" Trowa defended himself. "The phone rang and I picked up at the same time as you. When I realized the call was for you I hung up. I am not checking up on you, I am just concerned. You have been acting strange, Mike. What's going on?"_

_"Strange? I don't know what you are talking about?" Michael Chapman gave a forced laugh. "You are starting to sound like my mother. If you need to know I am meeting the professor because he has offered to buy some of my music. If this all works out there will be enough money for us to go to Canada, the way you had planned it."_

_His friend didn't seem completely convinced by his charade. "Do you want me to come along?"_

_"No, I can take care of myself. I'll see you later." On his way out the door Mike turned his head, the faintest of smirks on his lips. "You you really need to do something you might wanna go grab some more beer. I think we'll have some celebrating to do when I get back."_

"...the current high pressure front will stay in place for at least another few days giving us more of the unseasonal warm weather we have been experiencing for the last week..."

With a yawn Quatre blinked away the last traces of sleepiness and opened his eyes. The TV was running and he was lying on the couch in the living room. _I must have fallen asleep while watching the news,_ he realized. A quick gaze at the clock display on the DVD player told him that he could have only nodded off for a few minutes. _Just long enough for another strange vision,_ he thought.

In the armchair to his right Trowa was going through some photos it looked like. With music classes canceled for the afternoon, the two young men had driven home right after their lunch at Howard's.

"You having trouble sleeping again?" the brunette asked, never taking his eyes off the picture in his hand.

"Just a little." Quatre admitted as he swung his feet over the side of the couch. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing really."

The young man rose to his feet, looking over his friends shoulder as he did so. "Is that your little niece? She is adorable."

"Isn't she?"

"Well, I think I'll jump in the shower. That should wake me up. Want to do something later?"

"Got anything in mind?" Trowa looked up.

"See a movie maybe, I don't know. You think of something," his friend shrugged as he shuffled off. A few minutes later the shower upstairs started to run.

At almost the same moment the front door opened, as Leia returned from here lunch meeting. Trowa could hear her take off her shoes and put her purse down before she walked into the room.

"You are home already."

"Afternoon lectured got canceled," he explained, as he gathered up the photos he had been looking at. "Music classes."

"Ah, right."

"How was lunch?"

"Very nice, thanks."

"I didn't realize you and Professor Khushrenada knew one another. Why didn't you ever tell me about it?"

She stopped on her way to her room and looked back at him with a shrug. "I don't know. We met a long time ago. I hadn't even thought about him anymore until I ran into him last week at your school."

"Does he know?" Trowa finally looked up and straight at her. "That he is Mariemaia's father, I mean."

Her brows furrowed. "How...?"

"I looked at some pictures you sent me. It wasn't that hard to put two and two together once Milliardo mentioned that Treize was under your care at about the same time when Marie would have been conceived. Did you tell him?"

"Quite frankly that's none of your business, Triton."

"He has a right to know. I don't think it should be up to you to decide if he can be part of his daughter's life or not."

"Stay out of it, Triton. I mean it."

She walked away, but stopped again at the door to the guest room, her hand already on the doorknob. "Are you going to take me to the airport tomorrow morning or do I need to call a taxi?"

"Of course I will. Just let me know when."

"Thanks." Leia slowly opened the door. "Are you planning on telling him?" she asked without looking at him.

"It's not my place to tell anyone." Trowa replied."But I think you should."

##

Closing his eyes as he let the powerful jets massage his neck and shoulders, Quatre gave a satisfied sigh. The warm water seemed to rinse away all the tension he had been feeling, but the sense of tranquility only lasted a few moments.

_The young man suddenly found himself walking toward a car. It was dark outside and the lot wasn't exactly well lit. The car, from what he could tell a powder blue Chevy Vega, was the only vehicle in sight. Behind the fogged-over windows he could see someone move, and when he banged against the door the driver window was slowly rolled down. _

_"You are late!" A voice, that he instantly recognized as Professor Diciasetto's, barked at him._

_"You wanted to see me?" he heard himself say. "I take it that means you have given my 'suggestion' some thought."_

_"I have," the teacher confirmed. "And I am sure we can come to some kind of arrangement."_

_"I'm glad to hear it. How soon can you have some money for me?"_

_"That might depend on the amount you are asking for."_

_A noise from behind should have probably warned him, but by the time he realized it it was already too late. He tried to turn when something heavy hit him at the side of the head, slightly behind his left ear. A sickening crack was the last thing he heard then everything went dark. _

_When the darkness slowly and slightly faded Quatre assumed that the vision was over, but then he heard voices... Low and muffled like they were coming through some kind of haze. He tried to blink, but his eyes...his body wasn't obeying him. He couldn't move...he couldn't see... he could only hear those broken muffled voices, feel a piercing pain in his head and smell what was probably his own blood."_

_"...been thinking? You never said anything about killing him. Damn... So much blood. Maybe he is still alive...need to call... ambulance."_

_"Get a hold... No other way. He would have bleed you dry."_

_"...no killer. I'm going to call... Police."_

_Someone laughed. "...tell them what? Who do you think...believe? You or me? Yes, that's right... In this together. ...help me get rid...body."_

_He could feel someone grab him by his arms, and he wanted to scream against the pain. Then everything went black again, and Quatre thought...hoped it would be over now. _

_But then the blackness lifted again and he was once more faced with the terrible sense of drowning that he had experienced twice already. But this time it was worst than before. As he tried to scream for help his lunges filled with water and he head began to spin. His hand reached out, desperately trying to find something to cling onto as he felt himself being drawn into total darkness._

A thud and a sharp pain in his right elbow brought Quatre somewhat back to his senses. Moments later the door to the bathroom and then to the shower was ripped open.

"Quatre!" Trowa turned off the shower then kneeled down next to his friend who was just opening his eyes, groggy and disoriented.

"What happened?"

"You fell, passed out...? I'm not sure. I heard the thump when I was coming up the stairs and found you on the floor." Trowa explained as he reached for a towel and draped it around his friend. "I am calling an ambulance."

"No! There is no need."

"Like hell there isn't."

"I'm fine." Quatre insisted as he with Trowa's help got to his feet.

"Good, but if you don't mind I'd rather hear that from a doctor or paramedic"

"Is everything alright in there?" Leia's voice came from outside the bedroom. "I heard a noise and the Triton running up the stairs."

"Quatre passed out in the shower and fell," her brother explained. "Can you come in and take a look at him?"

"Wait a second," the other youth protested, his ears turning bright red. "I'm not even dressed."

"Relax," the young woman told him as she crossed the room."I am a ICU nurse, remember? I have seen more naked men than a gay-friendly nudist colony." She chuckled.

"Still, I'd like at least to put some boxers on, if you don't mind."

Leia gave another laugh as she turned on her heels and left the bedroom. "I'll be in the hall, call me if you are ready."

#

About fifteen minutes later the young woman finished her 'examination' with a shrug. "I can't really find anything wrong with him. His pulse was a little erratic but even that has slowed down now."

"That's what I have been trying to tell him. I'm fine." Quatre was lying on his bed, wearing not only boxers but also a pair of sweat pants, while Trowa watched from a chair by the window.

"People who are fine don't usually pass out without reason," she pointed out.

"I didn't really pass out," Quatre insisted. "I just got light-headed and slipped when I tried to turn off the shower. Must have been standing for too long under the hot water."

"That could do it."

"I always get light-headed when I am in the hottub, too."

"Alright, I suggest you take it easy for a while," she told him. "Rest or get some sleep. Next time turn down the water temperature."

"Will do, thanks." The young man gave her a soft smile then turned toward his friend. "Could you get me some water, please?"

"Sure."

Trowa left for the kitchen and by the time he returned Quatre was alone in the room. "Mind telling me what really happened?" he asked as he set the water glass down on the nightstand.

"I think I just experienced Mike's murder."

"What?"

"And it was not Di...umm Kovalski who killed him?"

Trowa gave his friend a surprised look. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." Quatre confirmed. He told his friend in detail about his vision from the moment Mike approached the professor's car until he had felt him drown in darkness. As he remembered the feeling, his hand instinctively searched for Trowa's. The memory alone was powerful enough to sent shivers down his spine.

"You are trembling. Are you sure you are alright?"

"I'll be fine?" Quatre nodded. "I just need some rest. Will you stay with me? I don't want to be alone right now."

###

"You want what?"

"Go back to school, tonight." Quatre had slept, peaceful and without any nightmares, with Trowa by his side. It seemed as though the bodyguard acted like some kind of protective barrier between him and those dark visions. Jokingly Trowa had once called himself Quatre's own personal dream catcher.

Right now however, as they were still lying next to one other on Quatre's bed, the young man didn't look very amused. "Have you lost your mind? You know, I would blame this on you hitting your head too hard earlier, if not for the fact that you always come up with these crazy ideas."

"I just want to find out who really killed Mike and Trowa. Don't you understand? With the professor's confession in his suicide letter the police is closing the case. The real murderer might never be caught."

"Is it really that important to you?" Trowa asked softly as he turned toward his friend. Reaching out slowly he brushed away a few strands of blond hair that had fallen over Quatre's face.

The other youth lowered his gaze. "It is important to me. Not only because they deserve justice but... Trowa, I haven't lost my mind yet. But after what happened today, what I saw and felt... I am not sure how long I could hold on to my sanity if this continues. And I don't think it will stop until Mike finds peace."

"I am sorry, Quatre.". The blond didn't resist as Trowa pulled him into his arms, but rested his head against his friend's chest."I can't even imagine how hard this is on you. But I am concerned about you, and there is so very little I can do to help."

"It's alright. You are helping more than you might think. It's just that I want to get this over with."

"So, what exactly are your plans?"

Quatre pushed away just far enough to raise his head and looked up. "In one of my visions Mike found some sort secret compartment in Professor Diciasetto office. It occurred to me that Diciasetto was using that very same office until the day he died. Maybe he was also still using the hiding place. I know it is a long shot but if we could find anything..."

"You mean some kind of document or note implicating his partner?"

"Like I said, it's a long shot, but..."

"..stranger things have happened." Trowa nodded "I understand. But I don't think tonight is a good idea after what happened to you in the shower. What if you pass out again?"

"But tomorrow will be too late."

"Why is that?"

"Didn't you hear the sheriff say he will have his men go over the room one last time tomorrow and then hand it back over to the school. The first thing they will probably do is replace that lock the police broke open."

"Hmm... I got your point." A few strips of yellow police tape were much less of an obstacle than any lock. "Then I'll go by myself, tonight." Trowa decided firmly.

"You don't know where to look."

"You can tell me."

"That's just it. I'm not sure either." Quatre admitted. "But if I would be in the room I would know where Mike was standing in my vision."

"Let's assume we do find something; what then? You know Bonaparte would not be pleased if we were to hide things from him again. I have no desire to spend time in jail for abstraction of justice. Not to mention how your father might react."

"I know, I know. I am not planning on withholding anything. I thought if we do find something, maybe we can just make sure the sheriff and his men will find it too, tomorrow."

"How? By painting a big red arrow and write 'search here' underneath?" Trowa laughed.

The other youth chuckled as well. "I was hoping something a little more subtle would do."

Trowa grew suddenly serious again. "You do realize that if you are right and Diciasetto is not the killer, he could have been forced to write that suicide note confessing to the murders..."

"...which could also mean he might not have willingly jumped off that roof. Yes, the thought has crossed my mind." The blonde nodded. "One more reason to find out who he was working with."

"One more reason to let the police do their job," his friend pointed out.

"But they are convinced that Diciasetto is the killer and don't have any reason to look anywhere else, at least not without a good nudge in the right direction."

Trowa sighed. "Alright, you win. But this will be the last time I'll give in to your crazy ideas. Now try to get some more rest."

Quatre smirked softly as he settled down and huddled against his friend's chest again. "Yes, mother!"

###

"Damn..." Cursing quietly Quatre shook his flashlight as he once again pushed the little black power button.

"What's wrong?" Trowa's voice from beside him. In the dim light of the windowless corridor, the black-clad young man seemed to consist of little more than a disembodied set of hands and his head. Quatre probably didn't look much different himself, he realized.

"The flashlight isn't working," he complained.

"You changed the batteries, didn't you?"

"Me?" The blond asked, his voice laced with surprise. "I thought you said you changed them."

"No. I told **you** to change them. " Trowa groaned and his friend gave a sheepish:

"Oops."

"There should be another light in the emergency kit in the car. Stay here, I'll get it."

Quatre watched his friend disappear into the darkness, then the door to the music hall opened and closed in a very eerie fashion and even the last of the footsteps faded. The young man pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders, but the shivers running down his spine didn't have anything to do with the chill in the air. Following the row of yellow emergency lights along the wall, he slowly made his way to the end of the hall where the former professor's office was located.

The pale light reflected off the yellow police tape that had been strung across the door frame. Quatre put down the useless flashlight and peeled away the tape at one corner, just far enough to create a hole he could slip through. Instinctively, he almost reached for the light switch, but stopped himself at the very last moment.

At least the room at two windows, and the moonlight was strong enough to illuminate the office. That, combined with the fact that his eyes had began to adjust to the darkness, gave him a good view. As he looked around his mind instantly replayed the vision in which Mike had been confronted by Professor Diciasetto, after having broken into his office. Quatre's eyes focused on the old-fashioned radiator beneath one of the windows. That's where Mike had been kneeling in his dream.

Even so the school was now on a modernized, heating and air-conditioning system, the old heaters had been kept in place for emergency use, which came in handy last winter during a city-wide power outage.

The young man slowly made his way toward the window. _This is where Mike was standing when I saw him._

He crouched down and reached behind the radiator. _No spider webs, please. I hate the feeling of touching them._ His fingertips started to roam over the smooth wood panels covering the walls. To his relief the school's cleaning crew seemed to be very thorough. Suddenly he brushed over a raised edge in the wood. He could feel a very narrow gap between the panels and when he dug his nails into it, the panel popped right out. _Bingo!_

Quatre set the wooden board aside. Even in the dim light he could see the hole in the wall he had uncovered, but it was too dark to see if anything was inside. He reached into the square opening and his fingertip felt paper and something harder, maybe a thick folder or binder. By now his heart was racing in a mixture of excitement and anticipation. _Double Bingo._

The beam of a flashlight that suddenly flickered to life not only startled but also blinded the young man. Quatre raised one hand to cover his eyes as he jerked around. "Trowa?"

"No, I believe I saw Mister Barton heading toward the parking lot just a few moments ago."

"Headmaster Stiller" The young man asked. "What brings you here?"

"The same as you I believe. So if you would hand over whatever you found just now, I'd greatly appreciate it. Slowly please; don't try to be a hero." The short, bulky man, emphasized his thread by waving his right hand. In the glow of the flashlight he was holding in his other hand Quatre could make out the metallic glint of a gun. He swallowed, mouth suddenly gone dry.

"If you shoot, someone is bound to hear it," he pointed out even as he, ever so slowly handed the papers to the other man.

The headmaster actually shrugged. "With everything going on here who will blame me for shooting first and asking questions later, when I discovered a burglar on school grounds in the middle of the night," he replied calmly, coldly. And the worst part about it was that he was probably right.

"Still," Quatre argued. "Then you would have to explain what you were doing here to begin with, wouldn't you?"

Stiller laughed. "Dear boy, I am the headmaster, why wouldn't I be at my own school?"

Another good point.

"Is there anything else?" The older man asked as he took the paperwork from Quatre.

"No, that's all."

"I have to admit I am impressed. I have been searching for his little hiding place for three nights without success. How did you know where to find it?"

Ignoring the headmaster's question, Quatre had one of his own.

"So you are the man working together with Professor Diciasetto on his little scams? The man who killed Mike Chapman?"

"Alright, now I am **really** impressed. I didn't think anybody had figured it out yet. But regrettably you are too smart for your own good. Mister Barton might be back soon, so you and I will take a little trip, up to the roof of the administration building. I've heard the view from there is breathtaking, especially at night." Stiller waved his gun toward the door, gesturing for Quatre to get moving. "Unfortunately there is something very odd about that roof; people keep jumping off of it. Such a tragedy"

The young man didn't move. "Why did you kill Diciasetto, or should I call him Kovalski? I thought the two of you were working together."

"He was a moron and a coward to top it off." Stiller spat, his voice filled with distain. "He was shaking in his boots after you called him. Just like he was shaking back then, when that Chapman fellow tried to blackmail him. Thirty years...why did you have to come and dig up the past that should have been left buried?"

"Michael Chapman didn't think so. He wanted justice, for himself and for his friend...Did you know that he was still alive when you threw him down into that well? That he was fighting for his life until his lunges filled with mud and water and he couldn't breathe anymore..."

"Enough," the headmaster snapped. "Get moving, unless you want me to shoot you tight now and here."

"I don't think so." Quatre shook his head firmly. as he pressed his arm against his body he could feel the little rectangular object tucked safely beneath his shirt, in the waistband of his black pants."Your game is over, headmaster. I suggest you put down your gun now."

"Or what?"

"Or I won't be held responsible for the consequences."

Stiller frowned slightly. "Have you been smoking funny cigarettes, Mister Winner?"

Taking a deep breath Quatre steeled himself. "I think now would be a good time," he shouted, while at the same time leaping to the left, trying to find cover behind the professor's heavy writing desk.

###

Trowa ran as fast as he could. His heart was drumming against his chest and his lunges screamed for more air. His feet pounded the pavement in a rhythm that vibrated through his entire body.

The young man wasn't sure what had caused him to turn and look back when he reached the parking lot. But the moment he saw the dancing beam of light behind one of the windows in the music hall, he knew that something was terribly wrong.

He had almost reached the building when the sound of a gunshot echoed through the quiet of night. His heart nearly skipped a beat. "Quatre!"

Without even knowing it he reached for his own gun, as he dashed down the long dark corridor. When he stormed into Professor Diciasetto office moments later, he was prepared for the worse. But what he found was an obviously scared and wide-eyed headmaster Stiller on the floor staring into a gun that was hovering in mid air only a few feet from his head.

"Quatre, for god sake, I asked you to wait in the corridor. What happened?" Trowa panted as he braced himself against the desk. His legs felt like rubber and he knew it would only get worse once the adrenaline rush was over. "And what about you, Alexander? You were supposed to keep an eye on him..."

"Trowa."

"...not play into his crazy ideas. You know..."

"Trowa!"

"...one of these days he is going to get himself killed."

"Trowa!" The blonde's shout finally got the other youth' attention.

"What?" Trowa snapped.

"You can chew me out later, I promise I will listen for as long as you want me to. But first I think we should call the police... And maybe an ambulance too. He looks like he is about to pass out on us."

Turning his head Trowa gazed at the fallen headmaster, who was still staring into his own loaded gun. A wave of relief washed over him now that the danger was over and he knew Quatre safe. He couldn't help the smirk that crossed over his face. "I think he looks like he has seen a ghost."

* * *

TBC

Author's Note:


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 26 **

"You have no idea how tempted I am right now to lock the two of you up and throw away the key." The sheriff's voice resembled the growling of an angry grizzly bear, and even his deputies made a point of staying as far away as possible while he was chewing out Quatre Winner and his bodyguard. "Breaking and entering...tampering with evidence...interfering with a police investigation... I don't even know where to begin. Didn't we already go through all this once before? And didn't I make myself clear that I wanted you to stay out of this investigation and inform me if you had any new information?"

"I am sorry." Quatre mumbled, not even daring to look the tall bearded man into the eyes. It was not so much the sheriff's thread that frightened him as the unpredictability of how Alexander might react if he thought they might be in danger.

"Oh yes, that sounds very familiar too."

"But we _did_ manage to identify the real killer, that should count for something, shouldn't it?" the young man pointed out.

"Ah yes of course. And you didn't even get yourselves killed like your two predecessors. That's a plus too." Bonaparte rumbled. "Deputy Walker!"

A slender, dark haired officer rushed into the room before the sound of his name had even fully faded, and snapped to attention. "Sir?"

"Take these two back to the station and take their statementa. Keep an eye on them until I get there."

"Yes sir." Walker nodded sharply.

"Are we under arrest?" Trowa wanted to know.

"Don't tempt me." The sheriff growled.

"In that case, since we are not arrested, can I have my gun back?" The young man dared to ask, earning himself a glare cold enough to set off another ice age.

"I'll take that as a no."

Softly Quatre touched the diary that was still safely hidden beneath his shirt. _It's alright Alexander, they are friends, _he tried to calm the ghostly spirit when he felt the temperature drop noticeable. _There is no danger here._ His tactic seemed to work because he could sense Alexander's mood change back to normal.

##

By the time the two young men finished their reports - Walker had taken them into a room one by one - it was shortly after three in the morning. While Quatre was giving his statement Trowa made a couple of phone calls. The deputy then had offered them the couch in the sheriff's office so that they could get some rest while waiting for Bonaparte to arrive. It weren't exactly luxury accommodations - the couch was old and a little lumpy - but it was better than a cell.

Walker checked in on them frequently, while Alexander watched over his young companions as they fell asleep leaning against each other.

A couple hours had passes, the slowly rising sun was turning night into dawn, when the door opened again. But this time it wasn't the young deputy but his stern-faced superior entering the room.

"Rise and shine!" The sheriff set a cardboard carrier with coffee and couple of brown bags down on his desk. "Breakfast is here."

Trowa blinked and checked his wristwatch as he sat up. It was nearly five thirty. Beside him Quatre yawned and rubbed his eyes. Handing a large paper cup of coffee to each of the young men, Bonaparte gestured at the paper bags.

"Breakfast burgers," he explained. "One of them has bacon on it the other one doesn't. I wasn't sure..."

Quatre nodded. He understood what the man was trying to say. "Thanks, I appreciate it, although I am not Muslim...well, I mean I am not practicing." He took a sip from his coffee and nearly burned his tongue.

"How much longer are you going to keep us here," Trowa asked while he stood up and walked over to the table to fetch the burgers. "We are going to be late for classes."

"I doubt that." Bonaparte slipped off his jacket and hung it up neatly on a hanger before settling down behind his desk. "School has been canceled for today; quite possibly for the rest of the week. But..."

A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Yes?"

Deputy Walker popped his head into the office. "Sorry to disturb you, Sir. A Professor Khushrenada is waiting outside. He claims to be Mister Winner and Barton's youth advocate and insists on seeing them."

Bonaparte's gaze went from Quatre to Trowa then back. "Did one of you call him?"

"I did." Trowa confirmed. _Although I never asked him to come here. I just wanted to make sure he knew that Alexander was with us and alright._

"Very well," the sheriff nodded. "Have in come in."

"Yes Sir."

Walker disappeared to return only a few minutes later with Treize Khushrenada in tow. The history teacher was dressed in a light grey suit over a blue silk shirt and a pinstriped tie. His tawny hair was slicked back except for a few stray tendrils that had fallen onto his forehead.

"Good morning, sheriff. Trowa, Quatre..." How anyone could sound so lively and fresh at such an ungodly hour was a mystery.

"Professor Khushrenada," the sheriff returned the greeting, while the two younger men simply nodded.

"Have a seat, Professor. I am not exactly sure why your presence here would be needed considering that your...'clients' have been neither charged with anything not arrested, but since you are here already you are welcome to join us."

"Join you?" Treize asked as he settled down in one of the chairs across from the desk.

"Yes, we were just about to watch a little movie."

"A movie?" the professor echoed. "I thought they were here to give their statement in regard to what happened at Marymount tonight."

"Actually," Bonaparte rose from his chair and walked toward the flat screen TV in the opposite wall. "We might not even need those statements. You see, our little recording speaks for itself and thanks to Mister Winner's clever questions the headmaster all but admits to the murders." The TV had a build in DVD player in which the sheriff slipped the small silver disk he had taken out of his uniform jacket earlier. "You see, in spite of what our two amateur detectives here might have been believing, my men and were not completely clueless in this case."

He went back to his desk to pull a remote control from one of the drawers. "After getting the autopsy report and finding out about that little identity switch from Kovalski to Diciasetto I became more than a bit suspicious about the good professor's suicide. That's why we set a motion triggered surveillance system up in his former office two nights ago," he explained without having turned on the TV yet. "As Mister Barton here pointed out at our last meeting, it was odd to say the least that not one staff member at Marymount would have met or interviewed Diciasetto before he was hired. So, chances were that someone knew the man was not who he claimed to be, yet for some reason or another kept quiet about it. We figured, that silent partner might sooner or later show up in the professors office to get rid of any evidence that might implicate him. By announcing that we would search the office one more time we forced him to come out of the woodwork sooner rather than later. So all we had to do was to run out little recorder and see what we would capture on film. Of course we didn't quite expect the show that we got."

The sheriff finally turned on the TV and pushed the play button for the DVD player. Behind his back Trowa and Quatre exchanged a long look with Treize.

"It's been a long night for everyone; so if you don't mind I'll just skip to the really interesting parts." Bonaparte hit the forward button two or three times before he settled back into his chair and interlaced his hands in front of his belly.

At first the screen was black, but then the camera flickered to life just as Quatre pushed away the police tape on the door. As they watched, the young man entered the office, heading straight for the window. He knelt down by the radiator and removed the wooden panel only a few moments later. Just as he pulled a stack of paper out from somewhere behind the radiator the sheriff stopped the disk.

"Our theory was right it seems; there was incriminating evidenced hidden in that office. Now the question would be..." He turned his head and looked straight at Quatre. "How did you know where to find it... so quickly."

"Lucky guess...?" The young man offered with a wry smile.

"Is that so?" Bonaparte just nodded as he resumed playback and turned his attention back to the TV.

Headmaster Stiller made his dramatic appearance, threatening Quatre with his gun and demanding the papers. At the point when Quatre asked the headmaster if he knew that Mike was still alive when he was thrown into the well, Bonaparte looked at the blonde once again.

"How did you know? Another lucky guess? Remind me to call you next time I am playing the lottery."

On the screen Quatre now demanded that Stiller put down his weapon. And then just as the young man dove for cover the picture died. The sound was still working but nearly inaudible under electric crackling and static.

The sheriff turned off the TV. "So much for superior modern technology."

"What happened?" Treize wanted to know.

The older man shrugged. "Equipment failure I suppose. They sure don't make 'em anymore like the used to."

"No, I mean what happened with headmaster Stiller?"

"Excellent question, Professor. To tell the truth, the man didn't make much sense... so, Mister Winner, Mister Baron if you don't mind?"

Quatre exchanged a quick gaze with his friend then nodded. "Like we already put into our reports, Trowa had returned after noticing a light through the windows of Professor Diciasetto's office. He managed to sneak up on Stiller from behind while I distracted the man. When he gave me a sign I jumped fror cover and he took down the headmaster." It was the story he and Trowa had agreed upon while waiting for the police, and it was the story he was going to stick with. "Maybe the video camera broke when Stiller's gun discharged."

"Maybe," the sheriff agreed. "How incredibly lucky for you, Mister Winner that Mister Barton got back just at the right moment. And how incredibly careless of him to leave you all by yourself in the first place. One would think a trained bodyguard knew better."

"Yeah well," Quatre smiled softly as he brushed the last crumbs of his burger into the paper bag before crumbling it up. "Hind vision is always 20/20 as they say."

"I suppose so. In any case that's for the two of you to work out. For me all that's left is to tell you once again to stay out of this investigation, whatever there still might be left to investigate. I take it you have not kept any more facts from me."

"No, Sir. That's all," Trowa told him.

"Well then there is no reason to keep you here any longer, is there? I'll be in touch. Make sure to have Deputy Walker return your weapon to you before you leave, Mister Barton."

"I will." The young man nodded as he collected the remains of their meal and threw them into the waste basket on his way to the door. "And thank you for breakfast."

"Don't mention it." Bonaparte replied with a dismissive gesture. "Oh, Professor Khushrenada, one more totally unrelated question if I may?"

Already half way out the door, Treize turned, a polite smile on his lips. "Go right ahead."

"Your full name; it's Treize Alexander Khushrenada, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Why?"

"Aw, nothing. Just a silly thought. We both have mighty big shoes to fill, don't we?" the sheriff laughed, but for some reason the humor didn't reach his eyes.

##

"There you go, you take it." As soon as he had settled into the back of the professor's car, Quatre pulled the diary from his shirt and handed it to the older man. "For a while there I was sweating bullets, you know. I was worried what might happen if they searched up, found the book and tried to put it in evidence or something."

"Yes," Treize replied. "That could have been bad. But I am glad you took Alexander along. Things could have been a lot worse without him."

"Not as glad as I am," the young man nodded as he put on his seatbelt. "As far as I am concerned I'll always be in his debt. And to think that Sheriff Bonaparte was on the right track all along. Maybe we should have left things to him. Although I am a little worried about his last question."

"Yes, I have a feeling that comment was meant to keep us on our toes," Trowa remarked.

"Absolutely," Treize agreed. "The man is sly as a fox, and smart enough not to show it. Luckily he is a good guy and I am pretty sure we can trust him."

"From your lips to Allah's ears." Quatre sighed. "I'd really hate to bang heads with that man."

"Amen to that." Treize started the car and slowly pulled out of the parking space.

"Would you mind dropping us off at school?" Trowa wanted to know. "I had to leave my car there."

"No problem." The professor nodded.

##

One of the windows in the sheriff's corner office provided a undisturbed view of the parking lot. From there the tall, bearded man watched as the dark-blue BMW drove away. Only when the car was completely out of sight did he turn away and walk back to his desk. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV before settling down in the oversized leather chair. Hitting the play button he resumed playback from the point where they had left off earlier.

The screen was still dark but even through the heavy crackling he could hear the sound of a gunshot. A few thuds and bangs in the darkness, and then moments later it was without a doubt Quatre Winner's voice that he heard.

"That's enough, Alexander. You might kill him."

He turned off the DVD player and TV again, knowing there was nothing else useful on the disk. He pulled a piece of paper from the desk drawer, reached for a pen and scribbled in large letters: Who is Alexander?Brows knitted in a stern expression he stared down at the paper until a knock at the door interrupted him.

"Come in."

"Would you like me to make some Coffee?"

"Miss Hunter, you are early." He hadn't expected his secretary for at least another hour.

"Obviously so are you." The dark haired, middle aged woman replied. "Have you been up again all night?"

"More or less," he admitted. "And yes a cup of your eye-opener sounds wonderful."

"A man of your age, you really need to take better care of yourself." Her eyes caught the paper bags and disposable cups in the waste basket, prompting her to shake her head disapprovingly. "And you have been living off that terrible fast food again. Sooner or later you are going to give yourself a heart attack."

"Those aren't mine," he defended himself. "I had visitors earlier this morning; I had to feed them **something**. "

Her face didn't give any indication if she believed him or not. "One cup or two cups?"

"I think I will need two this morning," he decided. "Will you do me a favor and have Deputy Walker come and see me? I have something for him to take to the evidence locker."

"Of course," the secretary nodded as she left the office, closing the door behind herself on the way out.

While waiting for his deputy Bonaparte removed the mini DVD from the player. Walker showed up only a few minutes later.

"You have something for me to take to evidence, Sir?"

"Yes. Make sure it gets labeled properly. It's the security recording from last night at Marymount." The sheriff hold him as he handed the small disk over to the young man. "And I need you to get me an old case file while you are down there."

"Sure, what's the case number?"

"I don't know without checking, but you can't really miss it. It's the only case still on file from 1903."

"Did you say 1903, sir?" Walker was sure he either didn't hear right or the sheriff had made a mistake.

"Yes, that's right," his superior confirmed. "It's a murder that had been cold for nearly a hundred years before it was solved just recently."

Of course he realized that deputy Walker didn't know anything about this case. He had only been transferred from the East Coast a couple of months ago; **after** the investigation had been concluded.

"A hundred year old cold case and **you** solved it." The amazement in Walker's voice was hard to miss.

"I **did** have some help," the sheriff pointed out. "I could not have done it by myself."

"Nevertheless, would you mind telling me all about it?"

"Maybe sometime, but not today."

###

Leia's overnight bag stood packed and ready by the door when Trowa and Quatre finally made it home. From the kitchen came the smell of toast and freshly brewed coffee.

Soaking in the delicious aroma Quatre gave a satisfied sigh. "Seems we are just in time."

A shock of light brown hair popped up in the door to the kitchen as they were still taking off their shoes.

"Good morning, and welcome home. I was starting to wonder if I needed to find a bail bonds man and a lawyer."

"You are still planning on flying home?" Trowa asked with a gesture at the bag.

"Yeah, I promised Marie already that I would see her today; I can't just take that back. I'll only stay there for a few days and then return. Meanwhile you can keep me informed." She checked her watch with one brief gaze. "The taxi will be here in about thirty minutes."

"You don't need a taxi; I'll drive you."

"No offence, Triton, but have you looked in the mirror lately? The way you look right now you run the danger of being arrested by the first security guard in sight. You need a shave, a shower, a change of clothes and most of all some sleep." Leia told him. "It's really not a big deal. Oh by the way Quatre, I left a note on your door. You had a call from someone by the name of Rashid Kurama or something like that."

"Rashid? You didn't tell him what happened, did you?" The blond asked.

"Well, I told him you went to school."

"You did?" Quatre's heart nearly skipped a beat. If his father was to find out what he had been up to he surely would make him return home at once.

"Extracurricular activity, astronomy lecture under the stars," she nodded.

The young man laughed. "Thanks, he might actually buy that. Did he mention what the call was about?"

"No, but it sounded quite important. He said to call him back first thing in the morning."

"His definition of first thing in the morning differs a little from mine." Quatre checked his cell phone to see what time it was. "He should definitely be up already. I'll give him a ring right now."

As the young man hurried upstairs to his room Trowa followed his sister into the kitchen.

"Did you make some extra coffee?" he asked.

"Help yourself." She gestured at the coffee maker. "Toast too?"

"No thanks." He grabbed one of the cups drying on a rack in the sink. "You know, you could bring Mariemaia back here with you," he told her as he reached for the glass carafe. "There is more than enough room."

"I will have things to do when I come back. Are you going to watch her when I am out of the house?"

"Maybe her father would." The remark was made in the most innocent way he could master, but Leia knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Let's not even start about that again."

#

"Good morning, Rashid. I didn't wake you, did I?" Quatre flopped onto his bed, reached for one of the pillows and stuffed it under his head.

"Not at all, Master Quatre. It's nice to hear your voice. Did you read the email yet that I sent you?"

"No, not yet. Haven't been on the computer since yesterday morning. Should I check it now?"

"If it is not a problem."

"Not at all, just give me a moment." The young man rose up to his feet and moved to his desk chair. Now that he was finally settling down, his body was letting him know how tired he actually was. Stifling a yawn he turned on the monitor. At the click of the mouse the computer came out of hibernation. There were several emails in his mailbox; one from his sister Izza, the one Rashid was talking about and a response to a book search he had done a few days back. The rest was nothing but junk and spam.

"Got it now." He opened Rashid's letter. His eyes flew over the lines and widened slightly. "Are you sure about this?"

"I am confident, but not positive yet," his father's chief of security replied. "I'll know more after a one on one meeting, later this week. Did you get the attached picture as well?"

"I am just opening it right now."

* * *

TBC

Author's Note: Okay I got some good news and some bad news. The good news: the story is not finished yet. and the bad news: The story is not finished yet.

Yes sometimes my muses surprise even myself by throwing me a curveball at the last moment. As a result this chapter would have turned into an epic if I would have not split it in two. So keep your eyes peeled for another, and this time final chapter.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

**Katreda**: If you haven't started reading Junkyard yet, you have missed some parts of the plot. As I have pointed out several times in my notes, those two stories are meant to read side by side not one after the other.

* * *

**The Well**

**Chapter 27 **

"Thank you, Sir, I appreciate the call. No, Leia won't be back until tomorrow evening. I'll let her know. Thanks again."

As Trowa slipped his cell phone back into his pocket he could feel several sets of eyes focused on him. They, that was him, Quatre, Heero and Wufei, were at Heero's place getting everything set up for poker night. Duo was on his way home from work and Treize had called a while ago to let them know that he and Milliardo were running a little late. Apparently there had been some kind of argument at their house weather Alexander should come along after the little fiasco he created at his last visit. In the end, even so Heero assured them that the ghost was more than welcome to join them, Alexander agreed to stay at home with Cabal and a couple of new mystery movies Treize got for him from the video store.

"That was the sheriff," Trowa explained. "The autopsy on Trowa's remains has finally been finished. He said he needs to talk to us."

"Did he tell he how he died." Wufei wanted to know.

His friend shook his head. "I am sure that's what he wants to speak to us about. But that wasn't the only reason he called..."

"Oh?" Quatre looked at him questioningly.

"Stiller tried to commit suicide."

"Tried? Any details?"

"Only that he was complaining about chest pain while he was being interrogated. They took him to the hospital for observation. Somehow he managed to get his hands on the drugs of two other heart patients and swallowed them. The sheriff said they had to call the crash team twice. He is still alive but it is touch and go."

"Then he is probably in no condition to be questioned right now," Wufei assumed.

"Probably not for a while," Trowa agreed.

"Would it make me a bad person if I told you that I can't really muster the least bit of sympathy for that man?" Quatre didn't look up as he crumbled the chip bag he had just emptied into a large bowl.

"No, I think it only makes you human," Heero told him. The young man, and by now probably everyone else in town, knew about Stiller's arrest and the charges against the principal. "He tried to kill you, and might have actually succeeded if not for Alexander. No, I think I would be more surprised if you would sympathize with him.

"Heero is right," Wufei agreed. "Someone who doesn't give a damn about another person's life doesn't deserve sympathy."

The sound of the front door opening told them that Duo had returned even before their friend's cheerful announcement:

"I'm home! You didn't start without me, did you?"

"No, Treize and Milliardo aren't here yet either," his lover told him.

"Oh, I think I just passed them on Oak Creek." Duo kicked off his shoes before stepping into the living room. "Say is Alexander coming too?"

"No, he is staying home pet sitting."

"And it only cost Treize two video rentals." Quatre added with a grin.

"Oh good." Duo gave a sigh of relief. "I am not sure if it is because he is more than a hundred years older than I or the fact that he isn't even...alive anymore that makes loosing against him especially humiliating."

"Don't think of him as being much older; think of it as being a lot wiser." Wufei pointed out. He had finished setting up the poker table together with Trowa, and now was putting the cards through the automatic shuffler.

Quatre laughed. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

"So," Duo nudged him with his elbow. "How did it feel to spent the night in jail? What's going on anyway; first Heero gets dragged off by the FBI and then you two get arrested..."

"We didn't get arrested," Quatre clarified. "In fact we weren't even taken into custody. The sheriff just had us taken to the station to give our statements. And we didn't spend any time in jail either."

"That's not how **I** heard it ," Duo smirked.

"Where did you get your news anyway?" Trowa wanted to know as he arranged some chairs around the little round table.

"I ran into Kathy Green when I stopped for a burger on the way home. She actually asked me for a interview for the school newspaper."

"The rumor and gossip page you mean?" Heero huffed.

"Maxwell, you should know better than believing anything coming out of her mouth." Milliardo's deep voice joined into the conversation, as the young man walked into the room followed by his lover.

"And you also should know better than leaving the front door for anyone to walk right in," Treize added. "I took the liberty lose it."

"I knew you guys were right behind me." Duo's smirk turned into a full blown grin. "Besides, all the criminals in this neighborhood are already inside."

"Hey!" with a playful glare Quatre smacked his friend over the head with a magazine from the coffee table. "Just for that you will go get the drinks from the kitchen."

"Yes Sir. Right away, Sir." With a theatrical salute Duo shuffled out of the room.

"You know, you really could have brought Alexander along, and the dog too." Heero told Treize as he and his lover walked in with a bottle of wine.

"Nah, I don't think he really had any interest in coming. It was really the movies he was after, so he pulled the 'Poor Alexander has to stay home, at least we should go for the video store for him' act." The professor grinned. "You have to remember, he had been around long enough to have learned a thing or two about manipulating people."

"...or three or four..." Milliardo added. "For some reason he always gets what he wants."

"I can see that." Quatre chuckled. "Say have you heard about that new 'netmovies' service, they send you your rentals in the mail."

"Yes, I was just looking into that the other day," Treize nodded. "Sounds convenient."

"Which reminds me; can Alexander use the computer?"

"No," the older man shook his head. "You saw what happened when he got too close to that video camera, didn't you?"

Trowa frowned slightly. "I was wondering about that. I could have sworn I have seen him turn on the TV and DVD player on his own."

"Yes, he used the remote. For some reason battery powered appliances down seem to be affected by... well, whatever it is that caused electronics to go haywire around him."

"Hmm..." Wufei gave a thoughtful sound. "Do you remember how frequent you change the batteries on your remote?"

Treize shrugged as he exchanged a look with his lover. "Not that often...actually now that you are mentioning it. I don't remember ever changing the ones in the living room...have you, Dear?"

Milliardo shook his head. "I don't think so. I kind of figured you took care of that."

"Hmm...interesting. Seems like having a ghost around **does** have certain advantages." Wufei laughed.

#

The evening was supposed to be fun and relaxing so everyone tried to avoid talking about the murders and everything connected to it. It was not until later, while they were cleaning up that Quatre brought up the subject.

"What do you think is going to happen if Stiller really dies? Are they just going to consider the case closed?"

The professor gave a shrug. "Maybe...probably. For sure, no prosecutor will waste any time and taxpayer money to put a dead man on trial."

"Wait a moment...," Duo threw in. "Stiller dying? Did I miss anything? Did Alexander give him a heart attack or something?"

"No, he took care of that all by himself," Treize clarified. "He tried killing himself but didn't quite succeed; at least not yet. They don't know yet if he will make it, though."

"You knew?" Trowa asked the professor. "Did Bonaparte call you?"

The older man nodded. "Yeah, just before we were leaving the house."

"Did he also tell you that they finished the autopsies on Trowa and Mike?"

Treize gave another affirmative nod. "Let's hope they found something that can tell us how Trowa was killed. If Stiller would die you might never find out how he died, otherwise."

"Yes," Trowa agreed quietly. "That's what bothers me most. I know it would mean a lot to my parents and to Leia to know what really happened to him. I know it don't change anything, but I don't think they could really find closure not knowing."

"Well, we will find out on Wednesday. Did the sheriff mention that he invited me to be there, too."

"No, he didn't say a thing, but then we only talked briefly."

"I want to go too," Quatre demanded as he was collecting empty beer and soda cans.

"I think that's a given." Trowa was holding the recycle bag for him. "Does this mean they also finished their work around the well and turned that property over to you again, Milliardo?"

"They have," the tall, blonde confirmed. "But I haven't scheduled the construction crew until next week, just in case."

###

"I hope you don't mind me including professor Khushrenada into this meeting?" Sheriff Bonaparte asked his guests as they gathered in his office. "The professor helped me a while back with an old murder case, even older than the one we are dealing with now..."

"Sheriff," Treize spoke up. "Everyone here is familiar with my great grandfather's murder."

"Oh really, well then... I thought it might be helpful to get his opinion on this case. So may we get started?" The tall, bearded man looked around to make sure he had everybody's attention. The small group was sitting in a half circle on the other side of his desk, with Leia Barton flanked by her brother and the professor, and Quatre Winner to Trowa Barton's left.

"I had several copies made of the medical examiner's report, if you would like to read it yourself. But maybe it would be faster if I just tell you the most significant parts.

"I agree," Leia nodded. "Was the M.E. able to determine how my brother died?"

"Dr. Freeman Is fairly certain that the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head. He says that it is very unlikely that anyone could survive a would like that..."

"But...?" Something in the sheriff's voice told her that there was a but or however to follow.

"Unlike Mister Chapman who sustained only one injury to the left side of his head, your brother suffered numerous broken bones at the lower part of his body..."

"May I take a look?" Leia reached for one of the reports. As her eyes flew over the pages Treize couldn't help but notice her brows narrowing. The frown on her face seemed to deepen with every line she read.

Grabbing a copy of the document the professor checked the part she was reading. He was no expert but from what he could tell both of Trowa's femurs were broken, his pelvis fractured and some of his vertebrae as well... He hadn't finished the page yet when Leia suddenly looked up.

"Sheriff, those injuries described here...they remind me of what we may seen in the ER when a pedestrian was hit by a car."

"A car?" Bonaparte echoed.

"Yes a frontal collision can result in fractures where the automobile's bumper hit and the back injuries occur when the person is thrown down onto the concrete."

The sheriff reminded himself that she was an ICU nurse and probably familiar with all kinds of injuries.

"Which could probably also result in an head injury." Trowa added. "I'm sure the impact could be hard enough, depending on the speed of the car."

"Hmm...that might also explain the glass fragments."

"Glass fragments?" The young man gave the sheriff a questioning look.

"Several small fragments of tempered glass had been found in what remained of Mister Barton's jeans," Bonaparte explained. "We weren't sure where they came from."

"Sheriff," the professor asked. "Do you think it would be possible find out what kind of vehicles headmaster Stiller and Professor Diciasetto were driving back then and see if measurements between the cars and the injuries might line up?"

"Yes, that should be possible. So, your suggestion is that they murdered him by running him over with their car?"

"Not THEY; Professor Diciasetto."

Quatre, who hadn't spoken a word until now, surprised everyone with his statement.

"Do you care to explain? Mister Winner? " Bonaparte asked.

"Well, if we think about it, he did mention it in his suicide letter. He spoke of an accident, but we do know now that he couldn't have been talking about Mike's death, because that was clearly murder..."

"But we also know that he was forced by Stiller to write that letter, so there is no saying if it, or any part of it is true," Trowa pointed out.

"Maybe he wasn't forced."

"Are you suggesting he committed suicide after all?" Treize gazed at the young man.

"No...No," the sheriff shook his head. "Stiller pretty much admitted that he killed the man when you asked him about it in the professor's office. And he would have killed you the same way, given the chance."

"No, actually he just said that Diciasetto was an fool who had been shaking in his boots when he received our phone call," Quatre reminded him. "Maybe we got it wrong. Maybe the call did shake him up enough to take his own life - as much as I hate that thought. And Stiller was probably just taking advantage of it in his plan to get rid of me. I am pretty sure, Sheriff that if you check the glass you find you will match it to Diciasetto's Chevy Vega. "

"First suicide...then murder...now back to suicide again," Bonaparte sighed. "Why do I feel like we are moving in circles?"

"Please, Sheriff trust me on this one."

"Mister Winner, if I have learned one thing in this case it's to never question your sometimes questionable 'intuition'."

###

"Alright, mind telling us what really makes you think Diciasetto was the one who killed Trowa?" Treize's question was directed at Quatre who was sitting across from him. He knew the young man better than to believe that his conclusion was based on nothing more than that short suicide letter.

After their meeting at the sheriff's office, the three men had stopped at the French bistro for lunch, while Bonaparte had taken Leia to the Medical Examiner's office to sign the paperwork necessary for the release of her brother's body.

Quatre was staring into his glass of iced tea, watching a little leaf bob around on the surface like a tiny ship on the sea.

"When Diciasetto jumped off that roof... And I am sure now that that's what happened..." he finally said quietly. "...I saw his life flash before my eyes. It happened very fast and most of it didn't really make much sense to me. But at one point, looking through his eyes, I remember being in a car and hitting something...someone. Again it was just a flash of memory but I could feel his shock and surprise. At first I assumed that I witnessed the car accident that killed the real Diciasetto, but of course that couldn't have been, because..."

"...he wasn't the one driving during that accident." Trowa nodded.

"Exactly. And in the light of what we learned today it just makes sense. The professor hit Trowa with his car, but it was not his intention. He might have been a opportunist and scammer who made a lot of bad decisions, but don't think he was a murderer."

###

"Seems like you have been right on the money once again, Mister Winner. The doctor allowed us to speak with Mister Stiller today, and his confession very much confirmed your theories about both Trowa Barton's and the professor's dead."

The sheriff's late evening visit the following day came as somewhat of a surprise. But not an unwelcome surprise, one had to add. Bonaparte had just returned from the hospital and decided to bring the news in person rather than setting up yet another meeting at his office.

Quatre had been making tea when the sheriff arrived. So he added another cup, and a few minutes later they were sitting around the table in the living room.

"So, then you know what exactly happened?" Trowa asked with a questioning look at the tall, bearded man.

"I'm fairly certain," Bonaparte confirmed with a nod. "I mean we already knew part of the story, but Mister Stiller filled in the last pieces of the puzzle for us. As we figured, Stanislav Kovalski switched identities with Roberto Diciasetto after the accident. He came to Marymount hoping that nobody would realize the deception. Unfortunately, then vice principal, Stiller knew Diciasetto from an interview he had conducted earlier. But for some reason the man didn't go to the police. Instead he confronted Kovalski and suggested they both could make some money if they played it smart. He was the one who came up with the idea of selling student's music. He called stacking those music sheets away where they would never be used again a waste of talent. With Kowalski's help they started selling them to that music producer Constantine and later others."

"What about the guy who was passed off to Constantine as Stan Kovalski?" Quatre wanted to know.

"Ah yes, Stiller talked about that too. It was a former student who got a free meal and a few bucks out of playing that role for the meeting. I don't think he really knew about the scam he was being used for. But anyway, things went very well for the two con artists until Mike Chapman found out about their swindle and decided to blackmail Diciasetto/ Kovalski. The professor just wanted to pay him off but Stiller was convinced that Chapman would eventually return demanding more and more money..."

"So he decided he had to die." Leia concluded grimly.

The sheriff nodded. "He said he didn't tell Kovalski about his plan because he knew he would blew it. After Mike was dead...or when they thought he was dead... they drove his body back to his house. Coincidentally, after one too many accidents, the city had decided to seal off all the old wells in the area, and Manor Terrace was on the schedule the next day or so. They called the house, making sure that nobody was there before they sneaked into the backyard to dump the body and cover it with a bit of dirt. They figured if someone was to find him during the construction work they probably would assume he might have been drunk and fallen into the well by accident. By the way, you also were right about Chapman regaining consciousness before he died, Mister Winner. The medical examiner found dirt and rock under his fingernails that could have only come from him trying to hold on to the walls while he was fighting to survive."

_I know._ Quatre swallowed. It was a picture he didn't need in his head again. Under the table he could feel Trowa's hand reassuringly on his thigh, and he smiled softly.

"What about Trowa's death, what did he say about that?"

"He didn't have all the details of course, but he told me that the professor called him in a state of panic the night after the murder and told him he just killed someone. He asked how and was told that it was Chapman's housemate Trowa Barton. Apparently Barton had confronted his music teacher earlier that day at school, demanding to know where his friend was. He didn't buy the story that Chapman had received money and had probably left for Canada. That night Barton waited for the teacher outside his house surprising him when he stepped out of the shadows into the road. The professor told Stiller he hit him head-on but it was an accident. He jumped out of the car to check on him but Barton must have died the moment his head hit the road. Stiller asked him if someone had seen the accident. And when the professor told him no one had, he ordered the man to hide the body and wait for him. Later they dumped the body into the well and packed some of Barton and Chapman's belongings into Trowa's car to make it look like the two had left voluntarily. They drove the Ford out of town and into the reservoir near Cresthill. - My men will be dragging the lake tomorrow, and I have no doubt that we will find the car just as he said. - Stiller then told the professor to clean his car and get it fixed, and to never speak of the incident again."

"And that was it? They just went on with their lives like nothing happened? Two people died through their hands and they felt less remorse than one might feel after running over a stray dog." The angry undertone in Leia's voice was hard to miss and very easy to emphasize with. "And the worst part is, they almost got away with it."

"Yes, but as you say only almost." Trowa put his hand on her shoulder.

"That's right," the sheriff confirmed. "Justice might be slow sometimes, but it did catch up with them eventually. Their carefully constructed castle of lies has crumbled..."

"Yet I wouldn't exactly call it real justice, considering Diciasetto... Kovalski took the easy way out and will never have to pay for his crimes, and Stiller might possibly follow suit," she complained.

"Not if I can help it," Bonaparte replied. "According to his doctor he is in stable condition now, and I have him under suicide watch. He **will** stand trial for what he did."

"Well that's at least something, I suppose." The woman sighed. "Sorry Sheriff, I know you are not the one to blame. I'm not sure what I am getting so upset about."

"Please, Miss Baron you have every right to be upset. Although there is little the police could have done to prevent what happened, if my predecessor back then had put a little more time and effort into case, maybe it would not have taken 30 years for justice to be served. And for that I have to apologize." The sheriff checked his watch and looked up again. "It's getting late, I probably should be on my way. Thanks for the tea, and if you have any other questions don't hesitate to call me."

"Thanks for coming, sheriff. Let me show you out." As Leia walked the tall, bearded man to the door her brother turned his head and looked at Quatre.

"It's finally over."

The other youth nodded. "There is one more thing I'd like to do, though."

"Oh?" A wary expression crossed Trowa's face.

"I want to go back to Manor Terrace to pay my respects, before Milliardo has the well sealed shut again. Please?"

###

Trowa's hand felt reassuring on his shoulder as Quatre slowly approached the old well that had been a grave to Mike Chapman and his friend for more than three decades. He dropped the bouquet of white lilies, they had bought on the way, into the dark whole and waited...for what he wasn't sure.

But nothing happened, and after a few minutes the young man dared to take a deep breath as a wave of relief washed over him. He turned his head, a gentle smile on his lips.

"You were right, it's over. They are finally at peace."

* * *

TBC

Author's Note: There we go, mystery solved. Only a short epilogue left to conclude this story. I hope you enjoyed.


	28. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

* * *

**The Well**

**Epilogue**

"Sheriff!" Walker snapped to attention as he entered his superior's office. The secretary, Miss Hunter, had already left and from the look of things the sheriff was just finishing up as well.

"What is it, Deputy?"

"We have a huge problem, Sir."

"What happened? Did the fax machine run out of ink again?" Bonaparte asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"No Sir, I mean, I don't know about that."

"Then what is it?"

"You told me to get all the evidence in the Chapman/ Barton case to the D.A. So I went down to the basement to get it and... The surveillance disk from Marymount is gone."

"What do you mean, it's gone?"

"It's just...gone." Walker shrugged, unsure how else to put it. "After you gave it to me I sealed it into a labeled bag and put it into the evidence box. And now it's not there anymore."

"Are you sure?" Bonaparte asked. "Maybe it just ended up in the wrong box or it fell out or something."

"I already looked, but I suppose I could check again."

"Yes, why don't you do that? But don't stay too long."

"I won't." The young man promised, but instead if leaving the office he shifted hesitantly from one foot to the other. "Umm sheriff...?"

"Is there anything else?"

"I was just wondering...what do you make of those things Stiller was talking about. His insistence of having been attacked by some kind of invisible force, and the camera breaking down at that very moment and.. Well, I suppose what I mean is, do you believe in ghosts?"

"Walker." The sheriff gave him a sharp look even though his voice had a softer, almost grand-fatherly tone. "Didn't I tell everyone to stay out of the common room while it is being painted? Those fumes can really mess up your head."

"I am serious, Sir."

"So am I. Stiller might be many things, but a fool he is not. And he wouldn't be the first criminal trying to go for an temporary insanity defense. All this talk about ghosts and supernatural forces... Is nothing but a big hocus pocus."

"I am not so sure about that." The deputy argued. "A cousin of mine; he swears that the spirit of his dead brother came to him to say his good bye, days before anyone even found out that he had fallen off a cliff while hiking alone in the wilderness."

"Would that be the same cousin who build his own little private bunker because he is convinced that aliens will be landing on the white house lawn any day now?"

Walker grimaced. "I see your point, Sir."

"Deputy, go home. Get some rest. And that's an order. We all have been living on too much coffee and not enough sleep of late."

"But what about that surveillance disk?"

"With Stiller's full confession, chances are the D.A. won't even need to use it. So, I wouldn't worry too much about it. Good night, Deputy."

"Good night, sheriff." This time Walker actually left, closing the door behind himself on the way out.

Sitting in his high backed leather chair, Bonaparte started at his desk thoughtfully for a few moments before he suddenly leaned forward. He pulled open the top most of the three drawers on the left side to take out a clear bag with a small silver DVD in it. After another brief moment of consideration he flicked on the document shredder next to his desk and fed the disk, evidence bag and all, through the machine.

"Ghosts..." He huffed as he rose from his chair and reached for his jacket. "What will next spells, and voodoo dolls?"

With one last look back at the shredder the sheriff turned off the light and walked out of his office. Another case closed through hard work and determination. That was his story, and he was going to stick to it.

###

"Trowa!" The young man was already half way out the door when Quatre called I'm back. "Phone call for you."

Trowa quickly checked his watch. He was late already; Heero was waiting next door. Due to some hefty showers in the morning they had postponed their daily run to the afternoon, after the rain had passed. "I'll have to call back later."

"I don't think that will do." Quatre told him." It's your sister."

The other youth frowned slightly. "Is something wrong? I spoke to her only a couple hours ago."

"I am not talking about Leia."

Trowa stopped like he had hit a brick wall. His head snapped around and he could feel the blood drain from his face. He knew Quatre wouldn't be joking about something like that.

"Catherine?"

Without even waiting for a reply he ran back inside, his heart pounding as though it was about to break through this chest. He dashed into the kitchen and picked up the received Quatre had put down next to the phone. "Hello?"

"Triton, is that you?" A feminine voice asked on the other end of the line.

"Catherine?"

There was a long moment of silence and then he could hear someone exhale deeply. "You sound a lot like Father, do you know that?"

Trowa swallowed. "Do I?"

"You also look quite a bit like him," she added. "You know, at first after this man...Rashid contacted me and told me he was calling on your behalf I was a little skeptical. But when he sent me your picture I knew instantly it was you."

_Rashid...? So that's how... _Trowa turned his head slightly. Quatre was standing by the door a soft smile on his lips. "Thank you." he mouthed.

His smile widened as the blonde turned to leave the room and give his friend some privacy. _I think I should go tell Heero that Trowa won't go running today.

* * *

_

TBC

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who made it through the whole story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing.


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